#stopping mid conversation to point out pretty trees and the color of the sky in puddles and the sound of the leaves underfoot

[uranium]

having a serious crush for the first time in a long time is so fucking scary i want to drive into a brick wall

[angelisverba]

come out, come out wherever you are

in which y/n agrees to do something really stupid, and harry is a bit of a shit

word count: 5k

pairing: vampire!h and y/n (different au from my other vamp!h fics, though)

warnings: drug use, mentions of drinking and alcohol, mentions of blood (duh, he’s a vampire). 

author’s note: okay so i know that i put vampire!h in the pairing, but this h is a wierd succubus x demon x vampire mix where he can feed off the emotions he wants to?? i’ll explain it in the story. enjoy your reading :)

She shouldn’t have agreed to play hide and seek in a cornfield.

At night.

During a full moon. 

On Halloween.

Y/n’s logic always disappeared when she was… under the influence. Whether that be with alcohol or other sorts of… fun substances. That was not to say that she was an alcoholic, or a drug addict, she just… hated to be a party popper. When her roommate invited her to college parties, she didn’t say no to the red solo cup because she knew that some way or another, she would end up giving in by the end of the night. Or when it was just her and her closest friends passing around  a freshly rolled joint, she didn’t say no because she didn’t want to be the odd one out.

Plus, it didn’t hurt that she enjoyed it… most of the time. 

This? This was not one of those times.

*    *    *    *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

Josephine, her roommate, had barged into her room with a smile over her lips as the brightness of her phone lit up her face from the bottom up, casting spooky shadows since y/n’s room was dark and she was falling asleep. 

“Y/n, look!” She said, turning the phone so beams that felt like they came from hell illuminated y/n’s pinched face, marks from her pillow decorating the place above her lip. She mumbled something, and Josephine kept speaking, “Travis just sent me an invitation to one of the frat’s Halloween parties! Come with me, it’s gonna be so much fun!”

And to get her to leave her room, she agreed. She must have, because the next morning as she was getting ready for her 10 a.m. literature class, she was bombarded with a series of costume ideas and questions about what was considered cheesy or overdone. Josephine had made it clear that it was okay that they didn’t match, especially because of their differences in clothing choices. Jo was more risqué, and y/n liked to dress in what she felt comfortable in. 

It didn’t take her a long time to figure out what she was going to go as for Halloween. That same morning, just before she walked into class, y/n stopped to stare at a framed art print in the hallway. 

La Belle Dame sans Merci by John Keats was a poem that she knew by heart, and the painting was one that she could get lost in for hours. Stopping to stare at it before walking into class was not an unusual occurrence for her, but that time an idea came to her, almost like it was written in the long locks of her red hair. 

Y/n would go as a Victorian princess. The dresses had always fascinated her, with the intricate lace details and elegant rippled of muslin fabric that flounced in a puff around the hips of Countess, or trailed behind the average cottage girl as she frolicked in fields full of daisies. She could picture it in her mind, and it made her giddy to know that there was a possibility she could look as pretty as one of the poet’s muses. She spent the entirety of the class switching from writing notes to browsing the five pages worth of gowns on Amazon, looking for something pretty yet within her price range. 

By the end of the period she’d had what she wanted in her cart. A baby-blue wisp of a dress with intricate lace detailing at the neckline that curved like the top-hald of a heart to cup her breasts. The sleeves bunched around her arms mid-bicep, and scrunched again around her wrists, the transparent fabric looking as if her arms were wrapped in the sky. Built in ribbing created a corset that added an extra curve to her waist to make way for the heaps of fabric that exploded from her hips and cascaded down to the floor like the foaming spray of a waterfall. 

It fit like a dream. When it arrived a few days before the party she dropped everything she was doing to try it on. The moment Josephine patted her shoulder to tell her that she was finished zipping up the back, y/n twirled around in the limited space of their dorm room to see herself in the narrow mirror at the end of her bed. 

Every penny she had spent on it was worth it. Sure, it was snug around the bust and refrained her lungs from expanding the extra millimeter they needed, but it made her feel… nice. Pretty. She liked the way it cinched her waist, how her wrists looked dainty covered in the lacy ends of the sleeves, and the way her breasts looked… accentuated by the frilly detail. 

Jo had squealed once she had a full look at her friend, and wouldn’t stop talking about how good they were going to look walking in together. She was going as Cat-Woman, complete with the latex suit, boots, mask, and all. She looked every bit as fantastic as y/n, only on opposite ends of the Halloween costume spectrum. 

Building up to the day of the party, the pair talked make-up and hair details, both of which Josephine would be taking care of because she was better at them. At one point, y/n thinks she even dreamt about making a grand-entrance, boys and girls gawking at how amazing she looked, and the most handsome guy stepping forth to profess his undying love for her. 

Which wasn't really how it went the night of, but she attained the same satisfaction. 

The party was located a little ways away from the city, at a plantation-style frat house in-front of a huge cornfield. Carved pumpkins with candles illuminating them from the inside out lined the pathway up to the front-doors, the trees nearby created crunchy pathways of orange and yellow leaves, and the moon was out; yawning tiredly, but glowing an eerie yellow color over the scene. 

It looked like the opening scene of a horror film. 

Y/n did receive a lot of stares, though. Most of them were from guys whose beady little eyes pointed straight to her chest, and the ones she got from girls were on the nastier side of envy. She could tell. But, oddly enough, she liked the attention. 

Josephine y/n’s hand and led her through the mass of costumed-bodies. There was a variety of ‘sexy’ professions (the usual: nurses, cops, cowgirls, and school girls) and those that come from fandoms (Hogwarts’s students, Eleven from Stranger Things, Mia Wallace from Pulp Fiction, multiple heroes from the Avengers) or those that came for shits and giggles (T-rex blow-up costumes with tiny hands, Joe Exotic, sumo-wrestlers, those things that sway outside car-dealerships, and even a Trojan condom packet). There was a lot to see, and honestly, it was beginning to overwhelm y/n.

Not only was it slightly disorienting to see everyone disguised, the interior itself was something to look at. Chandeliers and velvet sofas, gold lamps and fancy carpets and curtains. The epitome of privilege. She felt trampled, every once a while there was a tug on the ends of her dress. 

“How about a shot to start off the night, y/n?” Josephine asked her, hooking a latex coated arm around hers. The music was a rumble on the backs of their heads, shaking them through and through as some nameless rapper sang of drugs, sex, and money. What it always came down to. 

She agreed, and took the plastic shot cup. On normal nights, she would’ve usually required some type of coaxing, but not then. Y/n was almost looking for the hangover the next morning. She wanted fun. 

Three shots later and her fingers were dragging in front of her face. Her knees were wobbly and cheeks tinged with spirits. Everything was funny and if you asked her what two plus two was she’d tell you five. There was a new swagger in her step, and some might say that was the influenced hand-eye coordination, but to her it was newfound confidence. She felt good, she looked good, and she was having a damn good time. Laughing, making the best conversation she’d ever made, and when Jo suggested they go dance, she danced the best she’d ever had.

And sure, she was drunk out of her mind. A light weight. Everything was under a glamourized rose filter. It only made sense that the crowd parted like the Red Sea at God’s feet. 

Y/n’s lungs stopped working the moment her eyes locked with his. 

He was her counterpart. Literally. 

Dressed in a navy blue Victorian prince’s suit decked in gold trim and gold medals pinned to the breast. The tan pants that hugged his muscular thighs like they were made just for him, and his hair was slicked back. Jaw a sharp, smug line that worked as he popped a piece of pink bubblegum between his molars. A gleam of appreciation sparking in the forest of his eyes as they raked a path on her figure.  

It was like the work around them stopped, put on pause by some higher power so they could relish the moment of their discovery. What was that shit called? Divine Intervention? The millisecond before and after and between the time Eve’s teeth sunk into the taught skin of that forbidden red apple, and the snake’s tongue slithered out to see her. He was a stranger to y/n, but it seemed as if the feeling he stirred deep in the core of her being was one she’d always known, one from a past life. Besides her, Jo stopped doing whatever lucrative dance she was doing to see what had caught her friend’s attention. Y/n stood, tongue dry, feet glued to the ground as the handsome stranger approached her, a clear path in front of him. 

Then, he takes one step  forward and whatever conversation he had been involved with before was no longer of importance. Besides her, Jo stopped doing whatever lucrative dance she was doing to see what had caught her friend’s attention. Y/n stood, tongue dry, feet glued to the ground as the handsome stranger approached her, a clear path in front of him. 

“Oh,” Jo huffed in her ear, “he’s hot.”

“I-Is he?...” Y/n’s question died on her tongue.

“Coming right for you, girl. Good luck,” Jo pressed a kiss to her cheek and disappeared in the crowd. 

The stranger stops closer than she would have thought him to; a finger away from her nose, and when he spoke, she could feel the vibrations of his speech through her breasts where they nearly grazed his chest. 

“I don’t believe we’ve ever met before... princess?” His voice is deep, raspy and filled with grooves like the bark on a tree. He mocks a bow (given their costumes) and their nose touch before he straightens again. Up close, y/n can see the flecks of gold in his eyes, and she hopes her mouth doesn’t stink (it probably does, given the alcohol she’d had). A chilled palm grips her bicep, and the fabric of her sleeve sinks under his touch, “Would you like to get off this shitty dance floor and speak somewhere else?” He asks her. 

Her heart is pounding and she wonders if he can hear it because she certainly can, rushing in a taunting, roaring stream past her eardrums. Y/n nodded her agreement; yes, she did want to speak with him. A thrum of warmth comes from where he holds her, and he tugs her so that she’s standing in front of him, her back touching his chest as he pushes her through the crowd. 

Her fingers shake as she lifts the fabric of her dress to avoid tripping, and her saliva goes thick. Not because of what might happen, but because the man who ripped her bicep tenderly, like she was made of the most fragile china, was the most good-looking man she had ever seen. Her mind ran images of things to compare him to, and almost all of them were of the Greek statues put up in museums for all to admire. 

He leads her past the crowd and the kitchen where everyone was making drinks, past the wrap around stairs on the inside of the house, and even past the calmer sitting areas where couples were making out or groups of friends passed a smoking joint. He leads her right through the open back doors of the house so they faced the seemingly endless cornfield and the barn that was a speck behind it. The deck was less populated than the couches where kids smoked weed, but y/n guessed that it wasn’t to his liking because instead of turning off to the side so they could have a much less strained… conversation, he continued to walk- this time standing beside her instead of behind her. 

Grass crunched under their feet as they got closer to the stalks of corn. Confused, y/n spared a glance to what she was leaving, and then to him. He stared straight ahead, but she caught his eyes flickering in her direction, and a smirk quirking cockily on his lips before they returned to the yawning face of the moon. 

There was a short wooden fence separating the house from the cornfield that reached her hip, and he stopped there. 

“Finally,” he sighed, “Some peace and quiet.” He makes a gesture to the fence, and pops his gum. 

Dizzied, the tequila still in her head, she watches his tongue gather the gum back into his mouth, his lips shining with his own spit. Y/n doesn’t register that the movement towards the fence was his way of telling her to take a seat on the wooden bars. 

“C’mere,” he murmured. Placing his hands on her waist, he lifted her up so she could sit on the wooden fence, and her hands went to his wrists instinctively, trying to keep herself steady. 

Suddenly out of breath, her eyes shot straight up to his. There’s no way he can’t hear my heart right now, she thinks. He’s so close to her, his breath on her face. He smelled like pink bubblegum, cologne, and a liquor much more sophisticated than what she had to drink. His eyes held the same spell that she felt she was under. 

“What’s your name?” He asked, his hands still on her waist. He didn’t look like he was in a rush to step away from her, and that was okay because she didn’t want him to. 

“Y/n,” she whispered. It was physically impossible to raise her voice any louder. The stupid corset was making it harder for her to breathe, along with the added pressure of being in his presence. “You?”

“Prince Harry, at your service,” he smiled then, and y/n got a glimpse of shockingly sharp canines. They had to be fake. Longer than most in length, and she swore she saw one of those cartoonish-diamond glitter at the knife-like tips of his teeth. 

She pointed to his mouth and said, “Are you a vampire prince?”

He looked at her strangely, his brows furrowing and his tongue running along the inside of his cheeks. Then, he laughed. “Something like that.” 

“I-” She was gonna say something along the lines of ‘I think you’re a very good looking vampire prince’ until he cut her off.

“How about we play a game?” One of his hands lifted from her waist, and she let go to steady herself by grabbing onto the plant. Y/n hoped that her dress wasn’t getting dirty, but the moment that Harry brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear it flew out the window. 

Her eyes fluttered closed, and she leaned into his touch like a purring kitten. She blamed her blatant carelessness on the alcohol. “A game?”

“Yes, y/n. A game,” he muttered, watching the way her eyes twitched under her eyelids. 

“Which game?” Her eyes fluttered open again, and her breasts pushed against the corset as she took a deep breath, “I thought you wanted to talk?”

“Oh,”he glanced down, to her lips and for half a second, to the repressed mounds of her tits,  “I promise the conversation is going to be much more interesting after a game of hide and seek.” 

“Where would we even play t-that?”

“Right,” he pinched her chin with two fingers so that her lips smushed together, and gently tilted her head towards the field of corn. “There.” 

That’s how she found herself, running for her life in the middle of a corn maze, at night, on Halloween. 

What had started off as her giggling and running had soon into a panting, scared-shit-less run for no reason. Maybe it was because she just couldn’t get Harry off of her tail, or maybe it was that she was running with no direction into a cornfield she was sure was lost in. Maybe it was a combination of all those things. 

Harry yelled, “Come out, come out, wherever you are,” and it only made her want to cry. 

It was strange, really. Y/n didn’t know where this fear was coming from, it started out with them actually having fun, the tips of his fingers tugging at the fabric of the skirt before he let her run a bit, calling out how he was going to get her, how he was gonna catch the princess and she was giggling, turning to see him disappear when she turned. 

Then he went quiet. The footsteps stopped. And his tone of voice dropped to something much more… sinister. 

“Come out, little one,” he said, a clear whisper poured directly into her ear. 

Y/n turned, and she felt him getting closer so she tried to run faster. But she was getting so, so tired, and it felt like she couldn’t get any air into her lungs. All she knew then was the moon, with her tired face, and the intimidating, tall stalks of corn. 

Harry supposes that he’s doing her a favor. A lot of people wish they could run through a field wearing a dress like the one y/n has on. He was a bit of a shit, sure, setting her up for failure given he had abilities that she did not possess, but, he knew just as he knew the sky is blue- that she liked and wanted to walk into the corn field. Now, it wasn’t because Harry happens to be really good at reading people, no.

As an empath- one of the terms in the fine print of the being he was- he was able to connect into the funnel between her veins, the curved out thrum of what she was feeling. The witches he knew compared it to reading an aura, but it was much more than that. There was no need for interpretation of colors because it was like he was her, feeling what she was feeling. And she liked it.

Up until, of course, he switched up his game. 

After a few minutes of running around and playing with her like she was a mouse, Harry decided that he wanted to scare her. He wanted to give her a taste of himself. He wanted her to be scared- to not like him. Because he was something that shouldn’t be liked. It was a sick thing, really, that he happened to be so good looking when he was a literal monster. Harry fucking drank human blood. He wasn’t something that should be thought of as Greek statues. 

The part of him that remained human throughout the years felt bad for doing this to her. But, he had to. It made him feel better when he sunk his teeth into a victim’s skin. Almost like… he’d warned them, and it was their fault that they hadn’t taken the signal.

A scarecrow loomed overhead, and her lungs were running out of air, so he decided to go ahead and make his final jump on her. 

When y/n broke through the final turn to reach the very small clearing in the center of the field where a scarecrow stood in between a few bales of hay, she felt his breath at the back of her throat, and her knees buckled. 

She’d never really been much a screamer during a jump scare. Instead, she sucked her breath in, really loud and sudden, and because she was having such a hard time breathing, that instinctually breath caused black dots to litter her vision and suddenly those weak knees contributed to a faint. 

Harry caught her, and picked her up, huffing a small laugh to himself as he laid her across the piles of hay. 

She really was a sight to see. Flushed, hair a mess from all her running. Her lips were dewy and her waterline was agitated, he could see the moisture in the place where her eyelashes sprouted. 

With a few pats to the cheek, her eyes fluttered open, he was still hovering over her. Harry did not make a move to scoot back. 

“You’re awake, princess,” he said, smirking.

Y/n blinked, her eyes wide, and… gasped when Harry pressed a kiss to her cheek. His lips were cool against her heated cheek, and the curved ends of his slicked back hair tickled her chin. 

“You chased me,” she gulped, “for a long time.”

“Yes, I did. And you liked it. Didn’t you, little one?” He allowed the tip of his nose to follow the line of her jaw, testing the waters. She liked it, he could feel the shudders it sent to her heart in his bones. 

“I did.” Her eyes furrowed at her own admission. Why was she being so carefree? Why was she allowing herself to continue to stay in this cornfield? What was stopping her from questioning further what the fuck was going on? Her attraction, and his implied interest, that’s what.

Harry’s tongue slipped out of his mouth, and licked at her jaw before he placed another kiss to it, “Good. What do you say we have some more fun?” “What kind of fun?” Her head titled, and he was given direct access to what he wanted. Her neck. The column of her throat was pulsing with the beat of her heart, and the veins he could almost taste criss-crossed beneath her skin. 

“Fun is fun, pet. But if you must know, the kind of fun I’m talking about involves a lot of mouth to mouth,” He moved so his face was directly in front of hers again, and his palm gripped her waist beneath him. Unconscioslu, her legs parted and Harry had more space to slide both of his thighs between hers, one of his knees resting on the bales of hay she rested on. 

Y/n was no longer worried about the state of her dress, but rather, where his mouth would land, and where she would put her hands. Her eyes bounced between his, but they struggled to remain still under his intense hold. “O-okay. I’d like that.” 

“The prettiest princess I’ve ever seen,” he mumbled into the hollow underneath her jaw. And it was true. He’d seen a lot of royalty all throughout his wretched life, and none of them had been as pretty as she was. He felt a shiver of arousal go through her at the same time the air came fresh into his lungs, and it felt like he was going to explode from the inside out. 

“I think you’re the most handsome prince I’ve ever seen.” 

Y/n wanted to slap a hand over her mouth the moment those words left her lips, but Harry only chuckled and the vibrations felt heavenly against her skin. 

“You've been seeing other princes’, little one?” Harry teased, his mouth tracing their words against her lips. He pressed forward and kissed her; just a peck, testing. Again, she liked it. 

“No, just you,” she shivered. Her words were coming out in pants now. The fabri of her dress was too thick and too abundant to allow for any frisky actions, but his mouth was enough. One of his fingers was running over the tops of her breasts. Her mouth opened, she wanted more. Harry tasted of pink bubble gum. She wondered where it went. 

He chuckled and kissed her once more. “Then how do you know you know I’m the most handsome?” 

“I just do,” she said, arching into his touch. His finger was hooking into her sleeve, and he let it snap into her skin. 

“You do?” He licked her bottom hip, and she whined. This game, whatever it was, she wanted it to be over. It was too much for her to handle. 

“Yeah,” y/n said in a dreamy, far-off voice. “I mean, yes. Yes.”

Harry relished in what she felt, and soon enough, his cock twitched in his trousers. He never let himself become… involved in his meals emotions, but it was different with her. She was tender, and sweet. Willing and not a nuisance that he drowned out before biting. 

“Am I handsome enough... for you to let me bite you?” And that was another thing. 

Harry never asked for permission. Y/n was drunk enough that she’d wake up the next morning and think that he was just some kinky dude who’d left a sick hickey on her throat, as all of his ‘victims’ were, but still. Harry had asked for permission. 

“Bite me?” She was confused, head fuzzy with the same feeling that was heating in her groin. The lacy knickers she wore were probably soaked through. The bale on her bum was beginning to hurt. 

“Yes, princess. Bite, right,” he licked a stripe right where her pulse was the strongest to accentuate his intentions. “Here.”

“Okay, Harry.” 

He was handsome. And she was horny (with a mix of other things), she didn’t see a reason to say no. 

“Thank you, pet.” 

It was the same as it always was. Harry nuzzled into the spot, sniffing like a dog meeting a new friend, and with no preamble, he bit into her. The tips of his teeth pierced her flesh, and he allowed them to retract once the blood started to flow. When the first drop touched his tongue, he groaned. She was good, one of the best he’d ever had, and the heady flavor was just as sweet as she was. He was so caught up in his own satisfaction that he didn’t notice the moment her hands bunched the fabric of his suit from the late 1700s into fists, or her body going tense before he slowly relaxed, her heartbeat an irregular mix as she decided whether or not she should be panicking. 

But, he knew that she continued to enjoy what she was doing. 

“H-harry, I-”  She went limp in his arms, and the small squeak that left her mouth was the mermaid’s song that enchanted Harry. 

He knew this wouldn’t be the last time he’d see her again. 

*     *      *    *    *   *   *   *    *   *   *    *   *    *   *

hi! happy halloween babies! or better yet, happy harryween! i hope you enjoyed this peice, it was for sure out of my comfort zone and something new for me. if you haven’t yet, please check out my fanfic on wattpad in which harry owns a more aesthetic version of playboy mag. you can read it here.

[woeisme-iamwoe]

an absolutely massive Haikyuu!! fic rec pt. 2

IwaOi this time around. My favorite ship. The world’s favorite ship...there’s so many

Undecipherable, by ioo (4k. G. canonverse)

 I’m pretty sure the author meant ‘indecipherable’, nevertheless! I am appalled that this work doesnt have more hits. Y'all are sleeping on it and that's not okay. 

The sound of the door slamming against the wall has Hajime startling back to the present. He looks at the source of the disturbance and finds himself face to face with Oikawa, red in the face with breathlessness and a leather-bound notebook tightly clutched in both of this hands. When he spots Hajime, he makes a beeline for the bench and slaps it down right next to him.

"Koi no yokan," he says. "The sense one can have upon first meeting a person that the two of you are going to fall in love."

 primavera, by tothemoon (8k. T. canonverse)

All of tothemoon’s works read so beautifully 

They say it takes twenty-six years, for certain breeds to fully bloom. 

Learning to Walk (So That We Can Run), by ricekrispyjoints (27k. M. canon-divergence)

I've read this work so many times. Like, so many times and I’ve never tired from it. Gorgeous. The shift from friendship to romance felt so natural, love it. 

"I'm not healing like I should be."

In his second year of university, physical therapy just isn't cutting it. Oikawa's knee is getting worse, and he can't hide it anymore.

Or: the light angst, project-your-own-life-experiences-on-Oikawa knee surgery fic you didn't know you wanted.

 Priorities, by weirdmilk (2k. T. canonverse)

Kissy, kissy. 

‘I just -’ Oikawa begins, ‘it might be difficult to get married, sometimes, I think.’ He chews on his lip.

Iwaizumi makes a questioning noise.

‘Ah,’ Oikawa says, and then, in a rush, ‘if I didn't want a wife at all - what then? If I said that to you. If I told you I can’t see it. Like - the wedding dress. The bride. I just can’t see it.’

Iwaizumi swallows again, his heart beating much faster than the conversation warrants. He wonders whether Oikawa can hear it. ‘You’re eighteen. You aren’t supposed to see it yet.’ He snorts. ‘I mean - if we’re sharing shit, I’ve never even kissed a girl.’ He doesn’t mind admitting it. It’s not something that bothers him - he’s never prioritised girls very highly, and despite Oikawa’s largely undeserved status as Miyagi’s most eligible teenage bachelor, he doesn’t think Oikawa has ever wanted a serious relationship with any of his fan club, either.

Oikawa and Iwaizumi can't sleep before their first practice match with Karasuno.

 Before Midnight, by fathomfive (2k. G. canonverse)

Reads like a fairytale. 

The sky turns, the seasons turn over, and Iwaizumi and Oikawa track the movements of the stars. Nothing is ever quite constant, but it's close enough.

The grass is stiff with frost. They walk in silence past the raked-over vegetable garden and up the back hill, footsteps crackling, and stand side-by-side at the top of an incline that used to seem much bigger. Iwaizumi glances over but Oikawa’s already gone, eyes searching the sky with no hint of hurry, just a kind of reverent patience.

 make a bet, keep a promise, by raewrites (13k. M. canonverse)

Bet still on. 

Sometimes, in still moments, Iwaizumi wonders why out of all the people on earth he ended up with Oikawa Tooru. Why it’s his face that lingers on his fading conscious in the last moments before he falls asleep, in the first blurry seconds upon waking up again. Why when he looks to his side, he expects Oikawa to be there in the same way he expects to see five fingers on both hands, a natural extension of himself, ever present.

Why he can’t imagine a future without Oikawa in it.

It begins with a bet made between the two boys in the mid-summer of their eighth year. It starts with volleyball, but like with most things involving Oikawa Tooru and Iwaizumi Hajime, things are never quite that simple.

 our hearts still beat the same, by knightswatch  

 two birds, by thelittlebirdthattoldyou (5k. T. canonverse)

Of heartbreaking letters and paper crane wishes. 

Five months into the term, two months after he’s stopped replying to Oikawa’s texts, the first package arrives. A small square box, wrapped in brown paper and tied with string, and Hajime almost trips over it on the way to his dorm.

There’s a letter attached.

Oikawa doesn’t know how many times he’ll have to put his feelings down on paper before Iwaizumi believes them. 

Through My Eyes, by anchoringsouls (2k. G. canonverse)

Okay! Okay, we were doing great with the soft, happy love up until the last part! That's great, just great!

“I think if you ever saw yourself through my eyes, you would fall in love with yourself the same way the way I did with you.” 

in time it could be ours, by deusreks (3k. T. canonverse)

Anyone wanna go back in time and make a time capsule with me only to dig it up years later and we’re actually in love?

Set post Seijou's match with Karasuno. There's a moderate amount of rolling in the dirt. No pajamas were hurt in the writing of this fic.

There, in their joint backyard, was Oikawa Tooru, clad in his silly luminescent space pajamas, digging a hole near a cherry tree.

“What the hell, Oikawa.”

Tooru stubbornly continued digging. He looked pitiful in that moment; everything that was grand about him in daylight was meaningless in the darkness. He was only a boy with a shovel whose broken heart mirrored Hajime’s own.

 we can do better than that, by spaceburgers (16k. M. canonverse)

Of course, of course, the IwaOi road trip fic. AnD thErE wAs ONly OnE bED!

Oikawa and Iwaizumi go on a road trip during the summer after their high school graduation. It doesn't go as expected, but maybe that's not such a bad thing after all. 

They Say it Rains Diamonds on Jupiter, by exsao (35k. T. canonverse)

I don't know, just gorgeous. Hajime’s so in love. 

"You're in love with him."

Hajime considers denying it. He considers deliberately choking on his drink to express surprise, to create a distraction by spitting onto the man in front of him's pristine white shirt and causing a commotion. Instead, he swallows his mouthful of soda and heaves a small sigh once his mouth is free.

"Yeah," he says instead.

He's never been good at lying, anyway.

 Midnight boys/sunset town, by carafin (10k words. T. Housemates AU):

The author says they played off of the fact that Oikawa oftentimes forgoes his sleep in order to work, and wrote it so that he doesn't sleep at all. This was so cute, kinda sad, mostly not. Love how Iwaizumi just goes along with whatever crazy stilch Oikawa is on. 

In which Iwaizumi Hajime grows a few chili plants, participates in an eating contest, breaks into a park, and falls in love with a man who doesn't ever sleep - not exactly in that order.

5 Reasons Why Iwaizumi Hajime's Flatmate Is A Complete Weirdo (An Incomplete List)

1. He's obsessed with that stupid bucket list of his.

2. He's the proud owner of seven truly ugly, criminally hideous movie posters with aliens on them, which he insists on pasting all over the damn living room.

3. He's always stealing Hajime's sweatshirts.

4. Sometimes, he wakes Hajime up for breakfast. At 5AM. On Saturday mornings.

5. He literally never, ever sleeps.

 The Best I Ever Had, by FindingSchmomo (62k words. T. Canon-divergent):

You’ve read it, your mum’s read it, your dog has probably read it (you really need to take facial recognition for him off your phone, he’s got some weird nighttime habits). So basically this fic caused me physical pain and then pumped me full of morphine and now I’m good! Beautiful read, hated Oikawa for a while, Iwaizumi is the only boy I would ever feel safe alone with. 

A story of separation and time lost. Oikawa and Iwaizumi lose contact, and life goes on. Now, a decade later and back in Japan, Oikawa wonders if he can pick the pieces back together, despite knowing Iwaizumi has moved on. A story of their past, present and future, pieced together by shaky hands.

 darlin', your head's not on right, by aruariandance (13k words. T. canonverse)

Again, I’m pretty sure anybody who's anybody has read this fic and for good reason! Super sweet realizing you're in love fic. Makes me reconsider wanting to get married. 

'“Our wedding,” Oikawa says by way of explanation, tapping his finger against his magazine more emphatically. “What colors should we use? Color scheme is important, apparently.”

Iwaizumi feels his lifespan shortening.

“I was thinking our Aoba johsai colors to go for more, you know, softer tones? Besides, I’ve always looked great in that sea foam green color. Oh, and I guess you look decent in it, too.” He grins, saccharine sweet, and Iwaizumi has never been so tempted to knock one of his perfect pearly white teeth right out of his stupid mouth."

or,

Oikawa teases Iwaizumi about a childhood promise he made to marry him when they were older, except suddenly it's not really a joke at all.

 the courtship ritual of the hercules beetle, by kittebasu (66k. T. canon divergent)

Is this one of the most famous Iwaoi fic? I don’t know. Looks like it, I know it's my personal favorite. Where Oikawa studies bugs for a living and can’t seem to come to terms with his feelings. Very angsty, love that in a fic. 

Tooru is pretty sure he could manage the mating habits of a mosquito. It’s the mating habits of people he can’t seem to get right.

 Terrarium, by sausaged (11k. T. Post-canon)

Honestly, I’m so surprised this fic doesnt have more hits! It’s so good! Made me ache! I love the memories and character growth shown through the growing of the terrarium, absolutely adore that kind of symbolism. So beautiful, give it some love because it's one of my absolute favorites. 

He's practically a professional at being proactive (lies, lies, and lies when it comes to Iwaizumi).

At this point, is he really happy with just staying best friends forever? Will he be writing journals and collecting rocks forever (he will, he knows, but that is aside from the point)?

Can he really tag his Instagram photos with #YOLO if he doesn't actually put that phrase into practice?

 A story about Oikawa Tooru, Iwaizumi Hajime, plants, and rocks.

 Lips like sugar, by ohhotlamb (8k. T. canonverse)

Why did my childhood best friend never offer to help me practice kissing only for us to realize we were only interested in each other? I had a fake high school experience. 

Hajime is offered to learn the art of kissing from a true professional, one Oikawa Tooru. It's not as bad as he thought it would be.

 Falling Slowly, by bravely (commovente) (3k. T. canonverse)

So special, imagine loving one person, and one person only like this for the entirety of your life. This is getting too sappy, I want off of this ride. 

over the years, some things change; but over the years, some things stay mostly the same.

(alternatively, mornings with oikawa and iwaizumi over the years).

 No sleep in the city, by loveclouds (7k. T. canonverse)

Mass/volume = Iwaizumi, apparently. (Please. If anyone gets this absolutely horrific joke, lets elope).

Along their journey to find Tokyo's best ramen, Iwaizumi finds himself asked again and again why Oikawa is still single.

 Time, by surveycorpsjean (5k. E. canonverse)

Growing older together. 

When they're twenty-three, their story only begins.

 Everything With You, by Ellessey (14k. E. canonverse)

Came damn near to crying, you can just feel Iwaizumi’s pain. Fight scene was probably the most emotion evoking one I’ve read in a long while. 

‘Hajime still loves Oikawa, but he understands now. Oikawa can't look at him and see someone he could potentially date.

And that makes it easier to not focus on the little things that used to drive him crazy—Oikawa's long legs, the way he's always hanging off of Hajime, how his whole face changes when he gets ready for a jump serve, and he looks like he could take on the entire world and win.

This new arrangement though, this living together situation, is presenting a new set of variables that must be adjusted to, and the nakedness is one of them.’

--

For years, being Oikawa’s best friend has worked out fine. Hajime is hopelessly in love with him, but it’s enough. Then Oikawa—who, by all accounts, has never been anything but determinedly, assuredly straight—gets a boyfriend. Or a boy friend-with-benefits. Hajime doesn’t know, and he doesn’t give a shit about the definition.

What he knows is that remaining best friends is starting to seem a bit too painful (way too painful) to be considered a solid option.

 The Best Best, by rikke (12k. T. canonverse/future fic)

Takeru is a whole mood. Don’t want kids, but I do want domesticity and this fic feeds me well.

“Congratulations, Iwa-chan! You’re a dad!” Iwaizumi hears as soon as the door opens. He’s dealt with Oikawa for all of his twenty-one years of age now, but this declaration is still sufficiently disturbing enough that he turns from his place on the couch and braces himself for whatever Oikawa has done this time.

 Or the one where Iwaizumi and Oikawa babysit Takeru for a week.

 cheek kisses, by ohhotlamb (G. 3k. Future fic)

Sooo cute!! 

“Every time,” Hajime murmurs, “every time I see you again I remember how fuckin’ crazy I am about you.”

 Routine, by snoqualmie  (2k. T. canonverse)

Again, anyone wanna be my childhood best friend so we can put face masks on each other and fall in love? I died, truly. 

Iwaizumi is fourteen years old, horny too often and angry all the time, and he’s just starting to notice that Tooru’s legs are really long, that his lips are kinda soft looking, and his fingers feel good pressed under his jaw.

 Thirty Years and Change (the Games of the XXXIII Olympiad, by sunsmasher (19k. G. canon divergence)

Be wary, I would give this fic an upper rating to probably Teen and the follow-up fic is Explicit. But, Oikawa on the Japanese national team is just a dream as is, but add in a rekindling friendship and an angsty make out sesh? Mwah, delizioso. 

It’s July 10th, 2024, and Oikawa Tooru is an Olympian. His smiling face airs on an NHK promo every 45 seconds. He’s captain of the national men’s volleyball team, reigning star of the professional leagues, and he hasn't spoken to Iwaizumi Hajime in two years.

He has, however, sent Iwaizumi tickets for the 2024 Los Angeles Summer Games.

“So go,” says Matsukawa's voice. “It’s only a few weeks. You’ve got a whole city to hide in if it gets awkward, and if it doesn’t get awkward, well…”

It’s like watching the future reconfigure, like being in high school again, watching team after team fall to Oikawa’s faultless planning and shameless charm.

“I’ll get to watch a whole lot of volleyball,” Hajime says, and resigns himself to fate and/or Oikawa Tooru.

“Hey, when you get there, can you bag a gymnast for me?” Hanamaki asks, and Matsukawa squawks.

 Chasing Paper Suns, by carafin (10k. T. Future fic)

Again with the growing up and coming back together, this time with more angst than the last. Lovely, really lovely read. 

Post-high school, Oikawa makes it to the national volleyball team but Iwaizumi doesn't. The next three years become an exercise in growing up without growing apart.

Some days Hajime likes to think of himself as Oikawa’s counterpart—the two of them blending into a single devastating unit, the invincible setter and his unyielding ace, the bond between them unbreakable and true. Other days he feels like he is chasing after a rising sun, always running and running with his eyes fixed on the distance, trying to cross a chasm that stretches on without end, caught in an endless and exhausting pursuit.

 the yellow room, by ohhotlamb (14k. T. canonverse/future fic)

Makki and Mattsun see bullshit and call you out on your bullshit. 

“I told you, we broke up like six months ago. We’re not dating anymore.”

Hanamaki eyes him suspiciously. “You live together.”

“Yeah, so?”

“There are pictures of you two kissing stuck to your refrigerator.”

Hajime shrugs. “That wasn’t my idea. Anyways, they’re good pictures. Good lighting.”

 the river runs, by tothemoon (11k. T. post-breakup)

My heart ACHES. Happy ending, promise! Just read it. 

One year since their breakup, Oikawa Tooru starts a list of daily reminders, tips, and tricks called HOW TO FORGET ABOUT IWAIZUMI HAJIME, and he’s determined to make it stick.

—

This is a firsthand account of how to deal (and rather spectacularly, at that).

 I sure hope that guy gets fired, by Xov (29k. T. canonverse/time loop au)

The only thing better than one confession, is MULTIPLE confessions. Oikawa trusts Iwaizumi unshakably, and that's beautiful. 

It was the fourth time experiencing the exact same day that Iwaizumi Hajime reluctantly admitted to himself that something was very wrong. 

 my only friend was the man in the moon (until i met you), by ohhotlamb (7k. T. canonverse)

Just so innocent and sweet. Oikawa said ‘effort’.

In which Oikawa has a life-altering revelation, and Hajime is starting to think it involves him.  

 Bet On It, by originalblue (13k. E. canonverse)

Tooru being nice for a week? That can only end one way… with a d*ck in Hajime’s mouth. 

Hajime knows exactly how shitty Oikawa's personality is, and has no scruples whatsover about betting Oikawa six thousand yen that he can't be nice for an entire week. 

 especially for tender ones like us, by viverella (17k. T. canonverse/post break-up)

Gods! See? See what I mean? How could I forget about a work as heart wrenchingly beautiful as this? Give it some love, actually, all of the love. 

The worst part of it all, Tooru thinks to himself sometimes, is that even as they fought and kicked and screamed and tore each other to shreds, it was never that Tooru stopped loving Iwaizumi any less. The worst part of it all, he thinks, is that loving Iwaizumi turned out to not be enough.

(OR: on finding the right person at the wrong time and learning how to pick up the pieces)

 sunset town, by skiecas (33k. T. canon-divergent)

Another work that I just CANNOT understand why it doesn't have more hits. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful. I almost cried. 

In the summer of 2020, Oikawa Tooru returns home from his first successful stint as captain of Japan’s national volleyball team. In one hand, he holds the undisputed weight of an Olympic medal, and in the other, his unresolved feelings for a childhood best friend.

Two years down the road, reconciling his lifelong dream with his lifelong love proves to be the greatest challenge.

 of odd numbers and intimate regrets, by bravely (commovente) (5k. T. post-canon/one night stand au)

Basically, Tooru and Hajime sleep together after not speaking for seven years and of course there’s feelings and angst and a belated chance at happiness and a life together. 

Tooru’s spent the last seven years of his life in a carefully constructed schedule that is, he realises now, as much a habit as it was a way to forget about the person in front of him.

[or, the one night stand AU between two people more than friends but not quite lovers, measuring the passage of time in distance and long-gone memories, the expansion and contraction of the spaces between their fingers each time.]

 cross my heart, open wide, by acchikocchi (7k. T. canonverse)

Super cute, super short. Realizing you're on a date with the wrong person one-shot. 

For a minute Hajime doesn't know what to say. Everything and nothing crowds his mind, leaving no room to think. That he's never tried this. That volleyball's over. That he's graduating in five months. That it would be really nice, at least once, to go on a date with a good-looking guy.

 Hajime goes on a date. It's not with Oikawa. 

 Fernweh, by oikawashoyo (19k. G. canonverse/post time skip)

A mature(ish) Tooru?? I love works that show Tooru growing and living happily in Argentina and this one is just beautiful. (Plus! Plus, Skai did a piece on it as well and I love ALL their work so you can visualize everything). Love it. 

Argentina is stretching out before him, an opportunity, a challenge. He is reminded of his losses, his insecurities, his disappointments; sees them form a tall, tall wall blocking his path to success. He takes a deep breath and knows he is going to shatter it.

In which Oikawa's whole life is spent longing for the horizon — in the form of a dream, a home, and a boy.

 i breathe easily in your arms, by orphan_account (2k. M. canonverse)

Soft, soft sex

When, after completing their high school graduation ceremony and heading home to enjoy their freedom, Oikawa had pulled him into his room and pressed his lips hesitantly against Iwaizumi’s own, it seemed an inevitable development in the unfolding narrative of their shared existence.

Despite years of having a bed to himself, the sensation of another body taking up space in his sheets, curling against his chest, creating warmth, feels natural in much the same way.

 old and new, by Mysecretfanmoments (5k. T. canon divergence)

Finally a fic where they don't freak out on confession and it's sweet. 

“You seem—sad.” Was that the right word? Others sprang to mind: desperate, lonely, anxious.

Tooru looked away. “Are you going to make me say it?”

“Say what?”

Tooru folded his arms, sighed. “I missed you, of course.”

Hajime swallowed.

“No need to look that way. I told you, I’m not one of your macho man buddies. I’m allowed to say stuff like that without being embarrassed—”

“You’re being ridiculous,” Hajime complained. “No need to be so defensive. I’ve missed you too.”

“Oh?” Tooru seemed to get a little of his own back, leaning forward on his elbows. “What about me did you miss?”

((Going to separate universities, Hajime and Tooru learn the true meaning of "distance makes the heart grow fonder"))

 all i wanted was you, by spaceburgers (6k. E. college/fwb au)

This was more emotional than I thought a 6k friends with benefits fic could be, okay? Okay. 

Wherein Hajime and Tooru are fuck buddies, Hajime curses his treacherous heart, and Tooru is bad with feelings. 

 we shine like diamonds, by whitemiists (26k. T. canon divergence)

I couldn't not include this work. It deals with internalized homophobia so well and I really resonate with it. 

In all seriousness, I’m very lucky to live in a country where my sexuality is widely accepted and my heart goes out the LGBTQIA+ peoples who are forced to hide themselves. You are loved and your sexuality and gender-identity are not wrong and never will be.  

Oikawa is nine when he first hears the word. The boys on the playground whisper it like it's dirty, like the way they daringly mutter the word fuck and then look over their shoulders to check their parents hadn't heard.

"You know Abe-kun from class?" they snicker, hands cupped around their mouths like they're passing along a filthy secret. "I hear his older brother is... gay."

 Look For Him, by Leryline (18k. E. canonverse)

A collection of kisses. I love Hajime’s grandmother. 

She laughs gently. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so heartbroken before, Hajime.”

Iwaizumi sighs and prods at the mackerel with a chopstick. “Sorry. I can’t help it. It’s just different, you know? Like Oikawa pissed me off so much that now he’s not here I don’t know what to do with myself.”

“But you weren’t always annoyed with him, were you?” his grandmother smiles serenely and takes a sip of her tea. “My, my, Hajime, old women see everything. I saw you out there with my finches, when you were kissing Tooru’s nose. Your mother and father used to do the very same thing, you know, when they were younger. And look how long they’ve lasted. I hope you and Tooru last, Hajime. He’s very good for you.”

-

Oikawa has kissed Iwaizumi more times than either of them can count; it’s a constant thing, their lips never really leaving the other’s skin. There are, however, times when they’ve kissed that are burned into their memories. Eight of them, to be precise.

 film reel life, arsenicjay (8k. T. canon divergence)

Such a unique and creative idea! Reading from the eyes of a camera, so beautiful!

The only person Iwaizumi is lying to is himself, when he insists: I am not in love with Oikawa Tooru. 

 how to let your planets align, by tether (tothemoon) (15k. T. end of the world au)

This is the only remotely non-happy ending fic I will be including on here, and it's purely because it's a gorgeous read. And yes, I ached. Your lips, my lips, apocalypse. 

It is the last day on earth, December 2nd, 1985, when you realize you're in love with him.

[kitkat1003]

Everything is Blue

Chapter 1:  His pills, his hands, his jeans

MK just wants everyone in his life to be safe and happy, to never leave him.  He'll do whatever it takes to make that happen.

And, luckily for him, the voice in his head has the perfect plan to make that happen.

(Or, the author contemplates how slow the possession was for DBK in episode 10 and considers how MK would fall)

Ao3 link

This is a 13k monolith of a first chapter, but I'm very proud of how it turned out!  I threw it together in 4 days with the help of my beta reader @imnotcameraready on tumblr, famous for the Chivalry is Dead sanders sides au.  Give it a read, it's on Ao3 and tumbr!  It even has a sequel!  Seriously, she’s a great writer and edited this thing in like 2-3 hrs after I threw it at her.  A godsend.

Anyway, happy reading!

When MK knocks the canisters off of DBK’s back, he thinks that’s the end of it.  He wasn’t exactly given the rundown on how the cannisters worked, nor does he know why whatever was in them caused DBK to go crazy, but at the very least he only had to fight the one guy instead of the entire family. It was weird to fight with Red Son and Princess Iron Fan (shouldn't she be Queen, at this point?  She's married to Demon Bull King, after all. Do they not have the paperwork?) but not unwelcome. He wishes they could be on the same side all of the time.

Because he was raised on stories of Monkey King’s adventures, which frequently discuss the Demon Bull Family, and he’s always thought they were interesting in those stories.  He thinks Princess Iron Fan is super cool, even though she’s scary and actively wants him dead.  Red Son is...well, he wasn’t what MK expected, but that isn’t exactly a bad thing.  If anything, MK thought he’d be older.  He doesn’t understand how demon aging works.

Tangents aside, he watches them disappear in a gust of wind and groans, flopping forward as he bemoans the fact that they left again, when he’d just beat them.  Well, he hadn’t actually fought all three of them, this time.  DBK had fought more people than he had.

He jumps as the cave begins to crumble from all the damage that it took from the fight, scrambling to find a way out, when—

A New Vessel?

A voice curls into his ear, a soft whisper.

Young.  Powerful.  Weak.  Freedom.

He looks down, and he sees a white light sink into his skin.  Cold seeps into his every pore, bone, and nerve, his muscles tensing as the temperature drops.  His teeth chatter, and when he lets out a startled breath he sees white air drift in front of his face.  The warmth of his powers—his Monkey King powers—is smothered, and soon all MK feels is the cold that keeps him in place, rooting him to the spot.  It’s a miracle he’s even standing.  

What is this?  

What’s happening?

His eyes dart to the cannisters.  The empty canisters.  There was something in there, earlier, right? Where did it go?  

Is this?  Wher e it w  e n    t?  

Wha t   i  s  . .   .  ?

It’s hard to think.  His thoughts are newly cracked ice upon a lake, pieces crashing slowly against each other and fracturing further, splintering into nothingness.

New Vessel.  Rest.

His eyes slide shut, out of his control, as his consciousness, like everything else, is smothered by the chill.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He wakes up on the shoulder of the Monkey Mech, as the last rays of sun are streaking across the steadily darkening sky, like a lighthouse beam against the dark sea.  He sits up, staring far into the horizon, as confusion pulls him out of the just woken up daze.  How did he get here?

“MK?” He jumps, startled, and turns to realize that Mei is right next to him, a concerned smile on her face.  He stares at her, trying to figure out why she’s here, how she got here.  Then again, he doesn’t even  know how he got here.  He feels dizzy just trying to remember. 

“You alright, kid?” Pigsy’s voice comes from his other side, and he forces himself not to jump, turning to look at his boss.  Tang and Sandy are there too, and Sandy waves while Tang smiles in greeting mid slurp, bowl of noodles in hand.

“What happened?” he’s missing time.  He defeated DBK, and then...then nothing.  There’s a feeling of coldness, at the thought, but the memories don’t come.

“I found you on the ground after the Bull Clones all sort of fell apart. I figured you passed out after trouncing DBK, so I picked you up and got you out of there.” Mei doesn’t seem concerned, but MK is, just a little.  He’s never passed out after using his powers; rather, using them often results in him getting an energy boost.  He thinks back on it, trying to remember any time this has happened before.  Macaque comes to mind but even then he wasn’t tired once his powers returned.

His ruminating on the ordeal is cut off by a bowl of noodles being shoved unceremoniously into his hands.  He blinks down at it, and then turns to Pigsy  

“Here, kid.  Eat. You look pale, and skinny as ever.  Can’t have my employee lookin’ half starved.” He smiles at Pigsy’s attempt to hide his soft side, picking up his chopsticks with a grin.

He eats, and the loud conversations of what they’d just accomplished arrests MK’s attention so that the questions about DBK, the cannisters, the voice that he swears he can hear in the back of his mind, fall away like sand in an hourglass, time never able to be reclaimed.

The sun finally vanishes and stars dot the sky like sequins on a gown.  MK curls in on himself, hunched over the bowl a little, missing the sun's rays and the finished soup’s warmth.

He shivers, but there’s no breeze.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The bonus of living in such a technologically advanced age is that city reconstruction is pretty fast. Hospitals are rebuilt first, people are brought in en masse. MK spends his time volunteering there, because noodle shops are low on the list of things to be rebuilt and he needs to be useful.

MK tries not to be too guilty about the wreckage, though most of it had occurred because he was late to stop DBK. He'd been kept at Flower Fruit Mountain for a few weeks because Monkey King was worried after the incident with Macaque. Wanted to be sure MK's training ethic wasn't too messed up, wanted to be certain Macaque hadn't left any lasting effects or impressions.

It was a punishment, MK knows, for being a two timing student and for making Monkey King have to deal with a demon enemy when he’s made it clear that he’s retired. Doesn't matter that they only ever trained in the morning and early afternoon, then spent the rest of the day hanging out. MK has watched Monkey King: The Animated Series fifty-three times now, most recently with Monkey King during the duration of his solitary confinement at Flower Fruit Mountain. They'd both piped up with commentary, MK about the production and animation, and Monkey King about the inaccuracies that MK filed away for his sketchbook.

But even so, it was a punishment for MK’s failings. Why else would Monkey King keep MK close, keep him away from his family and friends, keep MK away from the outside world?

It takes two and a half weeks after the battle with DBK for MK to go back to work delivering noodles. He'll sometimes buy extra and drop it off at a random hospital nearby, for the medical staff. They're overworked because of him, because he was away for so long.

He has to be better next time. He doesn't know when DBK will be back, doesn’t know how to sense him. Is he able to do that? Can he learn to sense when his enemies are nearby? That would solve a lot of problems, near rid him of worry. Maybe Monkey King knows?

That thought has him swinging by Flower Fruit Mountain on the weekend, with a promise to Pigsy to be home before midnight.  MK is an adult only by age, after all; Pigsy still treats him like the 16 year old he found half dead outside his shop.

When he steps onto the mountain’s sand, though, he feels unwelcome.

The mystic energy that had beckoned him in the first time he’d arrived has shut its doors, like a silent way of saying 

Leave. 

Not a single monkey comes to greet him, but he can see their eyes, hidden in the trees. They regard him with suspicion. He frowns at them in confusion.

He hears a hiss in the back of his head and winces at the ensuing headache, stepping forward in hopes of pushing past the pain. Every step he takes makes the pounding in his head louder and more painful, and MK closes his eyes and focuses, reaching for the well of power he knows he has, the power that makes the staff feel lighter than air. 

It’s like sticking his hand through a well of ice, and his wrist is paralyzed by the time his fingers brush that warmth, the light curling around his palm.  Gold sparkles in his vision, and the unwelcome air starts to recede, as if the island recognizes him again.  He heads in deeper, and lets out a breath as the headache ceases.

He doesn’t have to head in too deep, because Monkey King comes through the waterfall in a rare moment of MK’s mentor leaving the inner sanctum of the mountain.  The waterfall itself moves like a curtain out of Monkey King’s way and the sight has MK focusing on that rather than the expression on Monkey King’s face, until he looks up.  

Monkey King’s eyes are sharp, darting around, an expression MK only recognizes from the suspicion and distrust Monkey King gave Macaque.  MK fidgets beneath that gaze, though it isn’t directed at him, uncomfortable.  He hasn’t done anything wrong, has he?  He wracks his brain for any new missteps, but finds very little.  Still, his anxiety skyrockets by the second. 

The look vanishes, though not completely, when Monkey King’s eyes catch on the sight of MK.

“Hey bud!  Impromptu visit?” Monkey King greets.

MK tries not to shy away from the air of suspicion that colors Monkey King’s tone.  Is MK really that untrustworthy? He did mess up badly by trusting Macaque, and Monkey King is right to distrust him.  He bites his lip and tries to ignore the swell of guilt that sets like a stone in his stomach at the memory.

“Yeah, just-uh-just wanted to train, y’know?  Don’t know when DBK is coming back.” He shrugs, and Monkey King nods, only half listening.

He still looks on edge. “Cool.  You uh...you bring anyone with you?” 

Now that’s concerning. MK scrambles to find a supposed intruder, hands gripping his staff tight in preparation for battle. “No?  Unless-Oh no, is there someone here?  Is it a demon guy?”  What if he led a bad guy here?  What if he messed up again?

He jumps as a monkey lands on his head, picking through MK’s hair in typical grooming fashion, and then Monkey King laughs, loud and almost relieved.  MK turns back around to face him.

“Nah, must be my nerves.  Maybe DBK left something on you, messed with my senses.” Monkey King waves a hand, nonchalant, and MK perks up in ease at the reminder.

“Oh!  That’s actually why I’m here!” He takes careful steps forward, trying not to jostle the monkey on his head.  “I was thinking-I didn’t know DBK was in the city and destroying stuff, and a lot of people got hurt.  But!  If I could sense him, like you can, I could stop him quicker!  Right?” He’s bouncing on his toes, nervous and excited all at once, and Monkey King smiles down at him fondly.  

“Sure, why not?  If you’re up for some meditation, that is,” Monkey King turns, waving at MK to follow. 

The monkey on MK’s head hops away, and MK sprints after his mentor with a wide grin.  “Totally!  I’m, like, the best at meditation.  I’m like a meditation wizard!”

Monkey King laughs all the way to the training grounds.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Training actually is easier than he expects.  MK blusters a lot, but he isn’t dumb or unaware of his limits.  Sitting still isn’t his strong suit, so sitting still while not being able to talk, tap, fidget, or do anything else other than think is basically torture.

But, when he gets into the meditative position with Monkey King, something clicks.  A cool blanket settles on his shoulders, eases out the desire to move.  It’s so easy to be still, and quiet.

Frozen.

“You weren’t kidding,” Monkey King tells him, and MK grins a little, face warmed by the praise.  “Now, when you’re like this, you have to let every other sound and feeling fade out.  Nothing else matters but the energies around you.  Mine’s pretty easy to see cause, yknow,” 

MK can practically see Monkey King scratching his chin and grinning with barely hidden pride.  “I’m a pretty powerful guy.  DBK would be similar, he’s got a pretty loud aura too.  Now, just try it, kay?”

MK nods, and takes a deep breath.  The sounds around him-bugs, monkeys jumping around and talking to one another, the wind, the ever present sound of something in his head—those all start to fade away.

Wait, what was that last one?

He lets them all go, and then forgets the feeling of the cold, the grass, the fabric touching his skin.  Nothing exists except his own mind, and then.

He gets to see the bright light that is Monkey King.  Golden and red and royal in its feel, it’s near blinding.  He has to blink a few times to get used to its light.

“Woah,” he murmurs, and Monkey King opens one eye, before blinking both in surprise.

“Woah, already?  You sure you haven’t done this before?” Monkey King crosses his arms over his chest, almost offended, and MK is reminded of how betrayed Monkey King looked when MK had shown off the skills he’d learned from Macaque.

“Nope!  Maybe defeating DBK gave me a confidence boost?”  He shrugs, and then stands, looking around.  Monkey King’s expression sits in the back of his mind, and MK bites his lip.  “Did I, uh, did I do something wrong?  I didn’t…,” he trials off, worried.

“Maybe,” Monkey King mumbles in response to his first reply, mostly to himself.  “Oh-no, no, you’re fine, bud.  I think I’m just a little paranoid,” he laughs it off.  MK is too busy glancing back towards town to process Monkey King’s pensive expression.

“I can see Mei!  She’s...very green.  Did she always have a dragon?” It’s curled around her, like a protective barrier, snarling and poised to strike.

Monkey King chuckles. “You’ve got yourself some powerful friends, kid.  Not surprising.  Like knows like, even when they don’t know what like is.” He puts a hand on MK’s shoulder, and then starts.  “You’re freezing.  It’s not that cold, is it?”

MK blinks a few times, and everything comes back, the colors and sounds and feelings of the world returning to normal.  Monkey King keeps looking at him, as if MK is a puzzle he’s yet to solve.

“I don’t know, maybe?  I’ve been feeling a bit chilly, lately.  Maybe I’m coming down with something?” He’s been a bit stressed out, between Macaque and DBK and the reconstruction, and he’s heard stress can cause illnesses.

Monkey King sighs, after a moment, and scratches his head.

“I think I’m becoming an adult,” he says, like it’s a crime, and he shrugs again.  “You’re probably fine.  Just, take it easy the next few days, alright?  Practice meditating at home, or when you’re on the job.  When you’re as good as me, you can turn it on whenever you need to,” Monkey King puffs up with pride, and his tail swings back and forth leisurely.  MK watches his tail more than he listens to what Monkey King is saying.

“Okay.  Anything else for today?” It’s only been an hour or two, they have plenty of time.  

Monkey King deliberates.  Then, he grins, stepping back to position for MK’s inevitable first attack. “Tell you what.  We’ll spar for a bit, and then you can bring up that new show you kept ranting about a few weeks ago.  Kay?” 

MK’s eyes sparkle.

“Heck yeah!”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

MK’s muscles aren’t sore when he gets home.  He actually lasted a couple minutes sparring this time around, and Monkey King had rewarded him with peach chips and an arm around MK’s shoulder as he eagerly pulled up the show he had dove into during his free time on the TV.

Pigsy sent him upstairs with a bowl of noodles and a stern reminder to sleep early so he wouldn’t be late for work. He finishes the noodles in record time and, once he has showered and put on his warmest pajamas, pulls out all of the blankets he can find.  He just wants to be warm, just a little, even though it doesn’t make sense that he’s feeling this cold.  He’s not tired, he doesn’t feel achy, his sinuses are clogged—none of the other symptoms of being sick are popping up, so why is he so cold?!

He’s practically buried in blankets by the time he feels comfortable enough to rest.  For the first time in a long while, he doesn’t dream.

Things go back to normal, somewhat.  There’s a niggling something in the back of his head, and there’s guilt and the ever present chill that has MK wearing long sleeved shirts, but otherwise MK falls back into his typical routine, which is nice.  He missed his friends, between Macaque and DBK and training.  It’s good to see them again.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The first time he starts hearing the voice in his head, he’s getting yelled at by Pigsy.

It doesn’t happen as often, anymore.  MK is scatterbrained, but he genuinely tries to do his best at work.  Sometimes, he gets mixed up, because he’s only one kid and he’s never been good at focusing, no matter how hard he tries.  It’s hard for his stressed out and ADHD ridden brain to remember whose order is whose, especially when it’s the dinner rush and he’s running behind.

Today was a particularly bad day.  He’d accidentally given a customer an order with peanut oil in it, when they had an order specifically without peanuts due to their severe allergy.  Pigsy had gotten a very angry phone call, and he passed that rage at MK, rightfully so. 

MK can only apologize so much, so eventually he quiets and lets Pigsy let off steam.  Luckily the customer hadn’t tried to sue, but MK knows the review Pigsy likely got was scathing.  He deserves a bit of a tongue lashing for that, he thinks.

It was an honest mistake.  Cruel, to yell at one so young.  Why is he so mean?

The voice in the back of his head, new and different, nearly makes MK jump.  Pigsy notices the change in MK’s expression and mistakes it for fear, and that gets him to quiet down.  He dismisses MK with a sigh and a wave of his hand, and MK heads upstairs, feeling guilty and confused.

 That voice….it didn’t sound like him, did it?  When he tries to recall the sound, it mirrors his internal voice, but in the moment it seemed different.

 It’s probably nothing.  After all, if something was wrong with him, wouldn’t someone else have noticed by now? Wouldn’t he have noticed by now?

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The voice keeps popping up at random intervals, random moments.  When Mei gets annoyed at his ramblings.  When Tang pushes him away when he’s begging for a story, because Tang is busy eating.  When Pigsy yells at him for being late for work, for messing up.  When Sandy awkwardly pushes him to leave because MK can’t take a hint, some days.  When Monkey King looks at him with something akin to disappointment, exasperation.

They’re tired of you.  They want you gone.  They’re plotting against you.  They’re going to betray you!

And, see, that would bother MK if he didn’t already know that.  He knows people don’t like him, find him annoying.  He knows he pushes too much, messes up a lot, misses social cues.  He knows that he’s not a good enough successor.  And that just makes him want to do better.  

As for the whole betrayal thing, plotting against him, it makes sense.  He isn’t offended or anything if they are, in fact he’d be more surprised if they weren’t, you know?  He’s the Monkey King’s successor.  He has all of the powers, has all of the strength and invincibility, with a caveat or two, but he’s also still just a teenager.  If they aren’t worried that he could go rogue, mess up and decide to be selfish, then that’s stupidity on their part.  Trusting him with anything is never a good idea, so knowing that, should he mess up, his family will be able to enact swift justice is a comfort rather than a worry.

And yeah, it’s a bit embarrassing, knowing just how annoying and useless he can be.  He flinches more often at their glares, gets quieter.  He doesn’t want to make them mad at him, he doesn’t want to lose them because he isn’t good enough.  He just needs to focus, be better, help out more often.  If he does that, hopefully they won’t leave.

The voice, after a few months or so, had backed off for a week.  He’d felt a weight lift from his shoulders, and smiling was easier.  Pigsy had seemingly relaxed at his good mood, and Mei seemed cheerier when they’d gone out to the arcades.  He hadn’t realized he’d been worrying them.  

Are you so sure they’ll stay?

A single phrase that pulls the rug out beneath MK’s feet.  He knows he isn’t good enough, but everyone knows that he at least tries, right?  That should endear them to him enough for him to prove he’s worth their time, right?  He can be good enough, he can do better, he just needs time!

Not fast enough.  They’ll get tired of you, and then they’ll leave.

The cold feeling in his chest feels so much heavier, as he panics in his room.  He’s supposed to be asleep, but the blankets don’t do much anymore.  He’s losing feeling in his fingers.  He keeps fumbling with things, even the staff, and everyone is getting annoyed at him.  And he’s so tired, all the time, and yet it’s so hard to sleep.  He doesn’t understand what’s happening to him, but he knows that whatever it is, it’s going to ruin the equilibrium he has between being a failure and being good enough to keep around.

What happens when he loses it all?

You can be better.

Can he?

Wouldn’t everyone love you if they were safe?

Well, he can imagine not having to worry about DBK would make them far less stressed out.  If he can do that, then maybe they won’t get so easily annoyed at him.  He knows stress can make people snappy, and there’s a lot to be stressed about, like the economy and death by demons.

You can make them safe.

How?  

Listen to me. 

And MK knows it’s weird to make a pact with your own mind, but he thinks he’s pretty good at following directions, so he nods, and doesn’t sleep at all.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The plan isn’t an easy one, and MK doesn’t know if he really wants to follow it.  The words turn over and over in his head. He doesn’t know if they’re right or not.

Maybe it would be better, if he wasn’t so nice.  He beats the bad guys, sure, but he isn’t that violent with them.  They try to kill him, but it’s never personal.  He’s the successor to Monkey King, it just makes sense that they’d go after him.  He’s not upset, really!

Even though the calabash has him looking over his shoulder.  They have earthquakes a lot, they live near a ring of active volcanoes, and each one puts him on edge, expecting a lie to turn his whole world apart. And the spider lady tried to eat his friends, tried to kill him.  And Macaque nearly hurt Monkey King because MK let him get close.  And DBK and Princess Iron Fan won’t stop, not until they get revenge or something.

Red Son is...he’s MK’s age.  And MK has noticed just how much DBK and Princess Iron Fan belittle Red Son, and he’s their son.  It’s too familiar for MK’s liking, and it makes the desire to bring Red Son to justice lessen.  Maybe, if he got Red Son’s parents out of the way…

You could have anything you wanted.

All MK wants is for his friends and family to be happy.

This is how you’ll do it.

MK doesn’t give in.  Not yet.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

MK considers it when he goes over to see Sandy, one afternoon.  They’re just doing some leisurely painting practice, nothing like painting the whole boat.  After the whole clones thing, Sandy had learned that he should probably figure out which color he wants to stick with in the long run before asking for help in such a task.  So, he asks MK to come over and brainstorm.  You know, sketch out some ideas, test paint samples on different areas of the boat, see how it looks in light and dark.

MK also helps with the many litter boxes around the ship, as well as top up the water and food bowls all around.  He gets appreciative nuzzles from the myriad cats around the barge, so it isn’t so bad.  Then, he and Sandy will have tea, and Sandy will listen to MK ramble on about anything and everything until either Monkey King or Pigsy or Mei calls him to go do something (he gave Monkey King his number.  Occasionally he will get an incomprehensible text.  He’s pretty sure Monkey King has a Nokia phone).

Today, when they’re having tea, MK considers.

“Hey, Sandy?” He starts, more hesitant than when he’s ever asked the man a question before. 

Sandy notices, and MK sees him soften his pose even more, looking warm and welcoming. “Yeah, MK?”

“Do you think I’m too soft on villains?”

Because he beats them, but he always lets them leave, lets them escape.  They get to heal, recoup, and come back stronger every time, and people get hurt.  MK doesn’t want to be the type to attack first, to never ask questions, but at this point there aren’t too many questions to ask.

“You’ve got a good heart, MK.  You don’t have it in ya to go at ‘em too hard,” MK clenches his fist, his other hand gentle against the teacup lest he break it.  He did that a few times when he first got his powers, unused to the extra strength.

“That kinda doesn’t answer my question,” MK tries not to say it through gritted teeth.  He can feel his tea getting frigid, and bites back the burst of white air that would make Sandy ask questions.

He wouldn’t know how to answer questions about that, which is why he can’t deal with them.  That’s the reason.

He’s saying you’re weak.

MK hides a grimace, and lets his heart ache silently.  He sips the tea.  It’s ice cold.

“What brought this on?” Sandy asks, instead of answering the question, which grates on MK’s nerves more than it should.

“I let DBK get too powerful,” he says.  “He destroyed the city again, and people got hurt.  If I’d just got rid of him before, those people would be okay.”

Sandy sighs, taking a sip of his tea.  A cat hops into MK’s lap, curling up, but after a few frigid moments hops away.  Apparently MK is too cold for its liking.  He tries not to get offended by that, but the hot well of shame and longing persists. At least the feeling is warm.

“MK, you’re still learning.  Mistakes are bound to happen.  Those who got hurt will get better, and the city is rebuilt better than ever!  You don’t have to carry everything on your shoulders.  And,” Sandy looks away, and suddenly he looks a lot older than MK thinks he is.  “Honestly, being too harsh to make an enemy stop can feel good in the moment, but it does more harm than good, especially to the person who does the fighting.”

And MK leaves it at that, but thinks he doesn’t mind if it harms him, if it keeps everyone else safe.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

“Another story!” MK begs, spinning on the barstool.  Pigsy always tells him not to, something about wearing down the seat joint, but at the same time Pigsy never really stops MK when he does it either, because MK only does it when he’s very excited and hyper.

Tang finishes his bowl of noodles with a chuckle, pushing up his glasses on the bridge of his nose in a practiced motion that MK is oh so familiar with.  MK taps the front of his sketchbook with his pencil impatiently.

“Alright, alright.  Tell you what, I’ll tell you the story of the Baigujing, or White Bone Spirit,” Tang’s voice falls into storyteller mode, and MK is immediately entranced.  Pigsy, from the kitchen, slams down a pan and groans.

“Not that one, Tang.  I hate that one, you know that,” MK turns to his boss and is surprised to see an embarrassed flush on his cheeks.  What in this story would Pigsy have to be embarrassed about?

“Hey, MK wants to know all the Monkey King stories.  I’m not going to rob him of knowledge,” Tang argues back.  He leans close to MK and whispers “Pigsy couldn’t sleep for a week after I told him this one.”

“That is not true!” Pigsy barks, indignant, and MK laughs.

Tang chuckles to himself, and Pigsy turns back to his work with a grumble.  Right now is a lull in business, right after the lunch rush and before early dinners get called in, so MK is taking his break and Pigsy isn’t too upset by it.  It’s just enough time for a story.

“Okay.  The Baigujing was a shapeshifting demon, who saw Monkey King and his group of traveling companions as they passed by.  Her eyes caught on the human monk, Tang Sanzang,” MK perks up.

“Hey, that’s like your name!” he points out, and both Tang and Pigsy look startled.  Tang coughs, awkward.

“Yes-well-uh, it’s a family name,” he amends quickly.  MK tilts his head to the side.  “Anyway, she decided she wanted to taste the monk’s flesh.  So, she disguised herself as a little girl, coming up to the group and offering them poisoned fruits.  Because she was so powerful, only Monkey King could sense her treachery, and he hit her with his staff, seemingly killing her.”

MK gasps, doesn’t understand the fury that builds behind his eyes.

Tang glances at him, for a moment, and then jumps.

“MK?  You okay?” He asks, and MK blinks.

“What-yeah!  What happened next?” Tang looks him over, gaze catching on MK’s eyes, before he sighs and continues.

“The Monkey King’s companions were shocked and appalled.  They thought he had killed an innocent girl!  He tried to explain, but they didn’t believe him.  The Monk buried the girl, who turned back into the spirit.  She tried again, once as the supposed mother of the little girl, and then the grandfather.  Monkey King managed to show her as a skeleton spirit during their last encounter, clearing his name, but then his companion, Bajie, told Sanzang that Monkey King made it up.  Thus, Monkey King was abandoned, at least until the Monk was captured by a demon Wujing and Baijie couldn’t defeat, and Bajie had to apologize to bring him back,” Tang finishes, and MK’s face settles into a pout.

“Bajie’s a jerk!” He crosses his arms.

“He apologized,” Pigsy mumbles, from his place in the kitchen, where he slices scallions violently.  “More than once.  Not that it matters.” 

“Monkey King didn’t exactly endear himself to his peers,” Tang amends.  “Perhaps if he had been less full of himself at the time, they all could have gotten along better.  But, all four grew to be better people by the end of their journey.”

MK finishes a sketch of the scenes Tang had described with a flourish, and he tilts his head to one side.  “Kind of rude to just attack the lady, though, couldn’t he have tried to talk it out?” He doesn’t know why he feels the need to defend the demon, but she doesn’t seem too bad.  

Tang makes a face.

“She wanted to eat a person, MK,” he says, and MK makes a face that mirror’s Tang’s expression.

“Right.  Eugh, gross.  Anyway, thanks Mr. Tang!” he hops off the barstool and puts back on his collared shirt, making sure his headband doesn’t slip down.  “Any orders, Pigsy?”

Pigsy jerks his thumb to the few on the counter.  MK picks them up, and continues on to work, the story sitting in the back of his mind.  He stumbles a bit while walking.  He doesn’t feel the key in his hand, his fingers numbed over time.  He should be concerned, but everything else seems fine.

He kind of wishes he could have met the Baigujing.  She doesn’t seem too bad, besides the people eating.  Maybe they could have worked it out.

Who does Sun Wukong think he is, deciding to serve justice anyway he sees fit?

MK frowns and buttons up his shirt.  His chest feels like ice.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He’s so, so tired.

MK looks at himself in the mirror when he wakes up and his skin looks paler, his lips a little blue.  He has bags under his eyes that vanish by the time he leaves the bathroom, a bottle of concealer and a tube of lipstick on the bathroom sink that he doesn’t remember buying.

His memory’s been growing spottier, too, missing minutes, hours.  Mei talks to him about a high score he beat at the arcade and he nods along, no clue what she’s talking about but not wanting to worry her.  He hasn’t gone to see Sandy in what feels like years, but gets a text from him thanking MK for taking care of the cats one afternoon.  There are sketches in his sketchbook he doesn’t remember drawing, from stories Tang told him that he can’t remember hearing.

He’s lost feeling in his hands and feet.  He’s dropped enough bowls of soup for Pigsy to go from mad to worried, and he shoves MK off to Flower Fruit Mountain because it’s warmer there, and MK always looks cold.  

He stumbles when he hits sand, nearly bowls over with how much the island rejects him, how much it wants him not to be there.  This is supposed to be a safe place, but the sand feels like needles and the wind slices at his face.  Monkey King comes rushing out like a bat out of hell, teeth bared, but he sees MK, kneeling on the beach, and runs over.

“You okay, bud?  You look…,” he doesn’t say awful, but MK knows he’s thinking it.  MK looks awful, feels awful, is awful.  And the solution to that is right there, waiting for him, but he doesn’t want to take it because he’s a coward.  The voice in his head gave him an ironclad idea, a perfect plan, and he’s been ignoring it because he’s scared.

Weak little vessel.

The hiss in his ear makes him wince, and he trembles as Monkey King helps him up.

“Tired,” he manages, leaning against Monkey King because he hardly has the strength to stand.  

“I can see that.” The try at levity has MK chuckling, but Monkey King is soft and warm and all MK wants to do is suck that warmth into himself, so he can stop being cold for one second.  “Why don’t we head to my place and watch something.  There’s always my show, right?”

MK nods, blinking slowly, and Monkey King takes a step forward.  Suddenly, they’re at Monkey King’s house.  When did they get there?  Why are they here again?

He’s set on the couch.

“There’s something off about your aura, kid.  Touch anything mystic or weird back at home?” Monkey King runs his fingers through MK’s hair, and MK leans into the touch.  Warm.  Safe.  

He shakes his head, a full minute after the question is asked.  Monkey King hums in thought.

“How do you even see auras?” MK mumbles, words slurring a bit as he talks.  “Teach me?”

Monkey King’s hand stills, and MK whines a little, prompting his mentor to continue the motions.

“I already have, bud,” Monkey King whispers, more to himself than to MK.  MK blinks in confusion.  He doesn’t remember that.

Rest, Vessel.

The voice whispers so sweetly in his ear.  It’s nice, sometimes.  Mean other times.  MK wonders if that’s his fault.  Is he so bad that even his own head is mad at him?  How can he be better?  He’s trying so hard.

The TV is turned on.  MK doesn’t register the sound, but the light makes him turn his head away.  Monkey King turns down the brightness with his remote.  Another monkey rests on top of MK for a moment, before jumping off.  It shivers at the temperature of MK’s jacket, his skin, and moves over to Monkey King’s shoulder.

MK rests his head on Monkey King’s lap, and closes his eyes.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He wakes up in a dream.  He stands on ice.  Each step he takes is careful, lest he slip, and even still he stumbles and fumbles.  He can see something in the distance.

“Hello?” he calls out, but the person doesn’t answer.  The closer he gets, the more he can make them out.  “Mei?”

It is her, but then her head drops, straight off of her neck.

“NO!” MK screams, running to her, and he stumbles and falls.  His knees hit ice and they burn with the chill that sinks through his pants.  He slides to her body, cradling it and her head as if he could put her back together with hope.

He turns, looking for a reason for this, and when he looks up, all of the adults in his life are standing around him, their faces covered in shadow.  Tang, Pigsy, Sandy, Monkey King—they’re all looking down on him.

“Look what you let happen,” Pigsy growls out.

“She’s dead,” Tang continues.

“You didn’t save her,” Sandy drones on.

“You let her die,” Monkey King spits.

“No…” MK breathes, and the tears build in his eyes and down his cheeks, freezing on his face.  It burns.

You have a choice, vessel.

The figures of his friends vanish into mist, and MK curls his arms around himself.  He misses the contact.  He hates to be alone.

A woman wreathed in white kneels down in front of him.  It hurts to look at her, and MK averts his gaze until she tilts up his chin so he can look nowhere else.  Her face is ice cold, yet inviting.  He can’t look away from her eyes.

Don’t you want them to stay?  Don’t you want them to be safe?

MK nods, quickly.  Of course that’s what he wants.  More than anything, he wants that love, that adoration.  He wants his family to be safe, to never leave.

You know what to do.

It feels like ice is creeping up his skin, encasing him in frigidity.  She holds out his hand, and he can do nothing else but take it.  The cold reaches its peak, and suddenly it’s warm.  It burns, and yet the warmth is inviting, a relief after months of being so, so cold and confused and tired.  He is past the point of cold, of freezing, of sub zero.  He is warm.  He is ready.  

He is hers.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He wakes up well rested, and the cold that had settled into him still feels like the burn that is a welcome respite from before.  Monkey King is still asleep, and MK leaves him there, leaving the house and walking slowly out of the inner mountain.  

He leaves footprints of ice where he steps.  The monkeys watch, from the trees, trembling as their eyes gaze upon something inhuman, sitting in MK’s skin.  MK has never felt better.  He knows what to do now.  He knows how to make things right.

The staff in his hands feels heavier, for a moment, but MK grips it tight and bends it to his will.  He pogos out of the island with ease, letting the wind whip his hair back.

He hasn’t blinked in a while.  He forgot he had to.  He blinks because the wind makes his eyes sting, and touches the ground with a gentleness he didn’t know he could master.

He lets his eyes glow gold, searching.  He remembers, now, how to look at auras.  He remembers a lot of things now.  It’s like the pressing weight of being weak for the sake of niceties has vanished, and now he is sharp and ready.

The only question is which of his enemies does he go after first?  He needs to get all of them, keep them secure.  It’s the only way the town, the city, will be safe.

The small fry first.  We’ll work our way up to the demon king.

Right, that makes sense.  MK grins to himself.  It’s so nice to have someone constantly helping, constantly making sure he’s doing the right thing.  He’s useless on his own, but give him a direction and he’ll follow it to the letter.

He can see gold and silver, in the distance.  He forgets their names, at first, but their auras jog his memory.  Yin and Jin.

They put him in the calabash.  They weren’t good at it, but they were good enough.  They’re demons.  Dangerous.  He needs to make sure they don’t hurt anyone else.  

He heads to their home, not in a hurry.  There’s no rush to the inevitable.  Is this what self confidence is?  The feeling of knowing you can do it, that you will do it, that no one can stop you?  It feels very gratifying.  He lets the glow in his eyes vanish, because he doesn’t want to startle everyone around him.  

His phone buzzes.  A text from Pigsy, demanding to know where he is.  He responds with ‘Dealing with Monkie Kid stuff.  Be back soon!’ and a string of emojis that Pigsy will find incomprehensible, before continuing on his trek.

He reaches the door, and hears a conversation.

“So, our plan has three steps.  That’s an improvement,” Yin seems to be pacing, from what MK can hear.

“Step one, capture the monkie kid,” Jin pipes up, and MK fights back a laugh.  “Step two, take the staff from him.” 

As if they could.  MK almost has to admire their tenacity.

“Step three, take over the world!” Yin finishes, and MK takes that as his cue to step in.

He knocks in the door.  Polite.  He still has manners, after all.

“Huh?  Jin, did you order out for dinner again?” Yin barks out.

“We don’t have the money for that!” Is the response.

“Hasn’t stopped you before,” Yin grumbles, moving to the door.

Here they come!

MK counts the steps Yin takes to the door, itching with anticipation.

“Hello?” Yin opens the door, and then jumps in surprise.

“Hi!” MK waves, and taps his staff on the ground.

There’s a thunk; not a thud of a body, but a thunk of a block of ice.  MK pats the statue with a fond look.  He’ll chip away the extra pieces later.  This is his first attempt, it’s normal for it to be less precise.  He can get better at it with practice.  Jin turns, from his place at the desk, and his eyes widen when he sees his brother, frozen on the floor.

“Yin—what did you do?” Red eyes glow dangerously, and MK wonders if they would be more ferocious if he threatened one over the other.  Jin gets up, teeth bared.

“This,” MK replies, tapping his staff on the ground.

Jin takes a step forward and freezes in place. Or, is frozen, MK supposes.  He looks at the brothers, safely imprisoned, and wonders.  Where is he going to put them?  There’s not enough room here for all of his enemies to be placed.  What’s a good place to set everything up?

The cave?  The old villain hideout?  

That’s perfect!  After all, it would be the funniest form of irony, right?  Turning a villain hideout to his base for his world saving plan.  Gosh, he’s so smart.  Because this is him, all him.  He finally is smart enough to know what to do.  He has to clear out the cave, first.  It’s not far away, hidden beneath the sewers.  There’s a path to it from the area where the staff used to lie.

He sets Yin and Jin next to each other, considering their poses.  He thinks they look a little off, but he can fix that, right?  He can fix anything, given enough time.  That’s what all this is, fixing the problem of demons who’ve escaped because of DBK’s release.  He nods to himself, and heads off.  He has rocks to clear out, he has a cave to excavate.

But, he promised Pigsy that he’d be back soon.  That stops him short.  He can’t skip work!

This will make him far happier in the long run.

Still, what’s a few hours of work to make Pigsy happy now?  He shakes off the one track mind and puts his staff away.  The ice won’t melt fast (or at all) and he’s got time.  The flash of cold he gets in response to that thought doesn’t inspire comfort, and he second guesses himself a few times, but he heads to the shop anyway.

“Hey Pigsy!” he waves, and Pigsy glances at him and jerks a thumb over to the pile of orders on the counter.  “On it!” 

MK swoops them up and sets them all on the delivery cart.  Pigsy glances at him again, and then freezes.

“MK?” he asks.

MK turns, blinking a few times.  “Yeah?” he responds, and Pigsy peers at him, almost suspicious.

MK tilts his head to the side in confusion.  A part of him is glad that he has concealer on, because they don’t have the time to chat about MK’s new skin tone, not with all these orders.  He watches Pigsy shiver, muttering something about the A/C acting up, before Pigsy shakes himself off and sets his hands on his hips.

“I thought-your eyes-nevermind.  Get those orders out!” Pigsy barks, and MK stands at attention, giving Pigsy a salute.

“On it!” He promises, sliding out of the shop and hopping onto the delivery cart.

It only takes an hour, which is much faster than he usually is, but focus comes easy when he’s driven.  The faster he gets this done they faster he gets to get back to his real work.  The work that will make things better for everyone.

Right. Of course.

His shift ends when the store closes, and he’s gone before Pigsy can say anything about his work ethic or ask where MK has been or is going.  He rushes to the construction site, dives below, rushing past the decaying plants where there once were flowers and a growing tree.  Without Monkey King’s staff, there’s nothing making sure the plants live.  MK frowns at the sight but stays focused on the task at hand.

Aim.  The staff can be as large as a mountain if it needs to be.  Crush what’s in your way.

He nods to himself, breaking through the rubble that has blocked off the tunnel.  The ground shakes, the whole underground rumbles with power, and he hopes he’s not keeping anyone up.  Then again, it’s not too bad if it’s just for a night, considering how many nights later he’s going to keep quiet.  Everyone will be able to rest easy once he’s done.  

He huffs a breath, and it comes out white.  He should be concerned, but honestly it looks cool.  He remembers to blink, because his eyes are starting to burn.  He doesn’t know why he keeps forgetting.

He makes his way to the cavern, and uses ice to keep the ceiling up.  Pillars rise, frost fills the spaces between rocks that would have cracked and splintered eventually.  The floor remains untouched, save for when he fills in the cracks that could trip someone up.

He doesn’t remember when he got these ice powers.  They seem new?  Why hasn’t he used them before?  How come Monkey King never told him about them?

Monkey King’s always had ice powers.

Has he?  MK isn’t so sure about that.

You’re his successor, not a carbon copy.  It makes sense you would have different powers than him.

Right.  MK nods to himself.  Now, time to get Yin and Jin!  Carrying them is going to be a challenge.

It takes him an hour to get them both there, and another half hour to figure out where to put them.  He has to consider DBK’s size.  Wait, does he have to go and get the spider demon lady?  He shivers at the thought, a deep well of terror sinking in his gut.  Even as self assured as he is now, spiders still terrify him.

I can take care of that.

Really?

Yes.  But first, rest.

Right.  He needs to head back to his house.  Pigsy will be worried if he doesn’t come home soon.  He heads out of the construction site, skipping all the way home.

He barely sleeps.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The week is certainly a busy one.  MK spends any time not with his friends searching, and he spends far less time with his friends, nowadays.  The spider demon isn’t easy to find.  He does manage to get some small fry lesser demons he hadn’t met before and now never will.  He doesn’t need to meet people who will inevitably try to kill him and those around him.  Far better to prevent the attack than deal with the aftermath thereof.

His collection of ice sculptures is growing.  MK likes to spend time chipping away at the blocks to them more polished.  It’s like sketching, in a way, or cleaning up a sketch.  It also gives him an opportunity to practice a more precise use of his ice powers.  He can make a mean ice chisel now, and he’s learned how to force the limbs of those frozen into the position he likes.  Yin and Jin stand on top of each other, like they did in their introduction.  The expressions on their faces aren’t what he likes, but he can cover it with frost and it’s like it was never there.

He meets up with Mei, one afternoon.

“Hey, MK!” She barrels into him, and immediately jumps back.

He reaches out, missing the contact, but she shakes out a shiver.  “Dang, you’re cold!” She slugs him on the shoulder, and he laughs.

“I feel fine.  Maybe you’re just being dramatic,” he shoots back, and she laughs with him, before her eyes glance at his face and she freezes.  “What?”

“Your eyes,” she murmurs, all joking replaced with concern.  He tilts his head to a side in confusion.  “They’re blue?” She adds.

“Oh!” he says, and the words that come out of his mouth don’t sound like him at all.  He doesn’t think he thought of them, and he doesn’t feel his lips move but the sound comes out anyway.  “I’m trying out some contacts.  Do you like them?” He bats his eyelashes at her, all in jest.

Her confusion melts into a smile. “I like your regular eye color better,” She admits.  “But those look cool!”  

She grabs him by his wrist, using his jacket as a buffer, and drags him to an arcade.  Every machine he touches sticks a little, the joystick and button a tad frozen by his touch, and he doesn’t win a match by any means, but he doesn’t mind.  Every time Mei leans close to him it feels like a victory.  Even though he feels warm, at least a sort of freezer burn warmth, the people around him have pulled away.  He’s too cold for them.  

He needs contact.  

Someone trips Mei as they’re running around the arcade.  Her nose bleeds, and MK feels his hackles rising.  Someone hurt his friend.  A demon?  A scan of the area reveals no such thing.  Just a mean person.  He can hear them snickering as they walk away.

Mei is more important than MK’s anger, so he takes her outside and finds some tissues, cleans her up.  He takes her out to her favorite restaurant (not Pigsy’s, though they’ll never tell him that) and they end the night with a race around town.  Her bike is an electric green streak, and he’ll never catch up, but he gives it his all before they finish outside his place.

“See ya later!” Mei still sounds a bit stuffed up from the nosebleed, and MK waves until she’s out of sight.  When she disappears, his expression shutters, anger against her unrecognizable assailant returning in a flash.

He’s been getting rid of demons, but that’s not enough!  Mei still got hurt, because people are unpredictable.  He heads to his room and paces.  How can he fix it, how can he make it better?

Maybe more than demons should be frozen.

MK stops in his tracks.  Now, there’s an idea.  But to freeze them forever, that seems like too much.

Not forever.  Just until they know how to behave.  Think of it as a pause button.

It would be nice if things just stopped for a moment.  Then he could have all the time in the world to fix it.  Once he gets the demons out of the way, he can do that.  Then, once everyone learns to behave, they can come out.  However long that takes.

He can be patient, for his friends.  This is all for them, after all.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A day after that, and he’s found the Spider Demon’s lair.  Every step he takes inside makes him shake, and he doesn’t think he’ll be able to take her.  He’s so nervous, so scared.

I can help, remember?  Just take a deep breath.

He takes a deep breath.

Close your eyes.

He closes his eyes.  

He doesn’t open them, but they open anyway.  Everything is washed in a soft layer of white, like frost, and his body moves but he doesn’t tell it to.  The fear he felt is muted, and he settles into the comfort of its absence.  He asked for this, right?

The spider demon—she wanted to be a Queen, right?  MK hadn’t been really paying attention when she went on her rant, too petrified to listen—skitters out, and when she locks eyes with him, she smiles.

“Aww, is the little monkie boy back to play?” She giggles, and MK’s body throws the staff at her.  She ducks with a yelp, and scrambles back.  “Ooo, we’re rough, now?  Seems you’re not so scared anymore,” She purrs, but he can hear the nervousness in her voice as the staff comes back to his hand.

“Iͥ ʷgͣˢoᶰtͤ ͮoͤvͬeˢrͨ ͣiͬtͤᵈ.” The sound comes out of his mouth, and it doesn’t sound much like MK at all.  Huh.  His body takes a step forward, and ice spreads out from beneath his foot.  “Tͭuͧrͬᶰnˢs ͦoͧuͭtʸ,ͦ ͧyˢoͪuͦ'ͧˡrͩe ͪnͣoͮtͤ ᵇtͤhͤᶰeʷ ͦsͬcͬaͥrͤiͩesͣᵇtͦ ͧdͭemͫoͤn ͥoͫuᶠtͬ ͤtͤhere.” 

The Spider Queen’s expression shifts, and she tries to run, but MK’s legs are faster. He watches himself move, jumping over stones and cliffs and any obstacle.  The webs she tries to trap him in freeze, and he slides across them as if his feet were skates.

Eventually, he corners her.  MK watches his body close in, and suddenly he’s back in control, staring her down.  Satisfaction crawls up his back, a cold grin splitting his face in two.

“ʷWͪhͦˢoˢ'ͨsͣ ͬsͤcͩaᶰrͦʷed now?” He grins, and she screams.

Ice, it turns out, is a great muffler.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Finding DBK’s hiding place is harder.  MK locates it just outside the city limits, in an abandoned scrapyard.  The perfect place to get parts for new bull clones and other random things Red Son can come up with.

He decides to go on the weekend, but as he prepares the night before Monkey King makes an appearance in his room.

“Hey, bud,” MK jumps at his arrival.

He must have been hiding as a bug or something, like when MK first found the staff.

“Monkey King!” He grins at his arrival, hopping up.  “What’s the occasion?  Is there something new you wanted to teach me?  Is there a demon we have to fight?”  We, not as in MK and Monkey King, but MK and himself.  Because he’s not one, not really, and that’s fun!  He hates being alone, after all.

“No, no,” Monkey King chuckles, overly fond.  Right, MK hasn’t been to Flower Fruit Mountain for a week.  “It’s just-you left pretty early, and, uh, you didn’t say anything about our next training sesh, you know?  And, uhh, pretty sure you shouldn’t be slacking off on that.”

The half hearted scolding aside, MK almost thinks that Monkey King missed him.  But that’s ridiculous.

“Well, you were sleeping when I got up, and I had to go to work,” The lie slips easily off of his tongue.  “I didn’t want to wake you, so I left!  Um, we’re busy tomorrow, but Sunday works for training, if that’s cool?” He rocks back and forth on his feet, ever excited.

“We’re?  Who’s cooler than me to hang out with?” Monkey King reaches out to ruffle his hair, and MK can feel the shiver that jolts through the monkey’s body at the touch.  Monkey King doesn’t comment on it, though.

“I promised Mei we’d hang out.  It’s been a busy week at the shop, so I haven’t been able to party with her,” He doesn’t know where these lies are coming from.

Sometimes he talks and it’s not him at all.  He should be concerned, but honestly he doesn’t mind if his other self takes the reigns.  He fumbles over his words way too often to be annoyed that someone is smoothing him out.

Polished like an ice sculpture; MK thinks he could be beautiful if he was like that.

“Alright, fine.  You and your friend can….do whatever it is kids do these days.  Am I an adult—oh my god I’m an adult,” Monkey King flops back onto his nimbus cloud with a groan while MK giggles.  

“Anyway, get some rest, bud.  You look tired,” is the last thing Monkey King says to him.

“On it!” MK salutes, and Monkey King floats through the window and then rockets off.  The papers in MK’s room all swirl from the blowback, and MK grabs one of the sketches that floats back down.

He doesn’t remember the last time he asked Tang for a story. The last time he sketched anything else at all.  But, a hero doesn’t need hobbies so trivial.

He plans.  Plans for how the city is going to look like, when he’s finished with it all.  He doesn’t need to write down the steps to get there, he has his head voice for that, but the city.  How it will look, when he’s done.  He has to figure it out, draw it out, and pin it to the wall so he can look at it every morning and evening and remember why he’s doing this.  So he sketches.  Pins the piece to the wall.  

Squints.  He doesn’t like it.  

Back to the drawing board.

His wall is covered by the time the sun rises, and MK still isn’t satisfied.  But there is no time to waste.  So, he picks up the outfit that feels all the more new—blue isn’t a color he expected to like, but blue is cold is safe is good is the burning warmth he needs, so he leaves the orange jacket and red headband hanging off of his desk chair.

Looking at himself in the mirror, he can barely tell the difference!

He is gone before Pigsy comes up with breakfast, before Pigsy calls for Tang to look at the mess MK left behind, enough drawings of the same thing for anyone to get the picture.  He is gone before Pigsy and Tang investigate, speak in hushed tones, and call for Sandy, Mei, and eventually Monkey King.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Getting to the outskirts of town is the easy part.  Infiltrating DBK’s base is a bit harder.  It’s not heavily fortified, but MK thinks that’s more because he has never tried to infiltrate such a place.  He doesn’t really attack first, he just protects.  But that’s not good enough anymore, clearly.  He can’t just be protective, he needs to be proactive.

He slides past the guards, freezes them for good measure.  After all, they’re going to be made useless once he takes their leader down, so it’s not as if he’s wasting anything.  There’s also always the chance they get wise, and MK doesn’t want his entrance ruined.

The inner sanctum of the base looks more like a house, made large to accommodate DBK’s figure.  There are pictures on the wall, from painted portraits to black and white to color photos.  MK supposes that the Demon Bull Family has been around long enough to have portraits taken in all sorts of mediums.  He wonders if they have statues, a shrine?  He bites back a giggle at the thought.

The booming sound of cloven footsteps alerts MK to DBK’s arrival, though by the sounds of two voices approaching, Princess Iron Fan must be with him.

“Red Son has been pulling away from us,” the gravel in DBK’s voice is soft, somehow.  MK listens in with interest.  What is it they are doing to their son now?

“You tried to kill him.  He can’t help but take it personally,” is Princess Iron Fan’s reply.  “He barely knows you, and he’s young.  He’ll grow out of it,” she waves a hand, unconcerned.

MK glares at them.  The temperature in the hallway drops, until Princess Iron Fan shivers.

“Darling, I thought this house had a heating function?” Princess Iron fan curls her arms around herself, and DBK picks her up and sets her on his shoulder, suddenly on guard.

“It does, the boy made it so,” he growls, sniffing around for intruders.  MK decides to let himself be known.

“Hi!” he says as he pops out from around the corner.

“Noodle boy?” Princess Iron Fan questions.

“Little Thief,” DBK growls.

“Actually, I go by MK,” he corrects cheerily.  “But, anyway, could you hold still?  This will be harder if you move,” He twirls his staff casually.  DBK growls, and Princess Iron Fan places a hand on the side of his face to silence him.

“MK,” Princess Iron Fan starts, with a forced air of politeness.  “We are in your debt for helping save my husband.  However, if you attack us, we will have no choice but to fight back, and we will not be kind.”

She grins, self assured, and continues  “And you know what happened the last time you tried to fight me.”

Fire.  Volcanoes.  She had tried to kill him and, more importantly, she had made his friends cry.  But things have changed, haven’t they?

MK giggles.  The sound echoes, and the hallway gets colder.  Frost crawls over the walls, and MK looks up with eyes that glow.

“Aͣcͨtͭuͧaͣˡlˡlʸy,ͥ Iͭ ͪtͥᶰhᵏiʸnͦkͧ ˢyͪoͦuͧˡ'ͩllͬ ͧᶰfiͥᶠnʸdͦ ͧmᵏeᶰ ͦʷtʷoͪ ͣbͭˢeᵍ ͦhͦaͩrᶠdͦeͬrʸ ͦtͧo ᶰbͦeͭatͭ ͪtͣhͭaʸnͦ ͧbeͨfͣᶰorͤˢeͨᵃᵖᵉ,” He jumps up with a smile, and sprints forward.

Something dawns on her face, and Princess Iron Fan stands.

“Darling, we need to run,” She says, quickly, but MK jumps and bounces off of the walls and is eye to eye with her before she can explain.

She doesn’t even have time to grab her fan.

DBK jumps back as the block of ice slides off his shoulder and he roars.

“Father?!” MK hears Red Son’s voice from afar and ignores that for now.

“I will tear you to pieces you ingrate!” DBK shouts, and MK laughs.

“ʸYͦoͧu ͨcͦoͧˡuͩᶰlͭdnͤ'ͮtͤᶰ ˢeͭvͦᵖenͫ ͤbʷeͪaͤᶰt ͥmʷeͣˢ wͥᶰhʸeͦnͧ ͬI ͪwͤaͣsͩnʸ'ͦtͧ ᶠtͦrͦˡying!” he shouts back, dodging a blow that sinks DBK’s fist in the wall.

The frost slides from the wall to DBK’s arm, gluing him there.  He fires the gun on his other arm, and MK dodges. 

“Nͥiͩcͥeͦ ͭshot!” He dances around the room.

DBK takes a step in the wrong direction, and slips on the ice cube that is his wife, dropping to the ground.  MK wastes no time, and DBK’s roar is silenced abruptly.

Finally.

Finally.

“Noodle Boy!  What on earth are you doing?!” Red Son looks rather steamed, if the smoke coming off of him is any indication.

“Hi, Red Son!  I was just taking care of your parents,” MK gestures to the popsicles on the floor.  Red Son stares, face a mixture of confusion and horror, and MK barrels toward him.  “Now they can’t be mean to you anymore.  You can make fun inventions and not have to be a mean guy all the time!” Honestly, if anything, Red Son should be thanking MK, but MK doesn’t do this for thanks.  He takes a few hairs and blows on them, and his clones start to work on moving the new additions to his cave.

“You—” Red Son is at a loss for words before landing on “Give me back my parents!”

See, MK was worried about that.  He would likely have responded the same, when he first left his parents.

“But I worked hard to get them out of the way!” MK pouts.  “But, I get it.  You don’t understand.  You just need to ᵍcͤoͭolͦ ͧdͭowͦᶠn,ͦ ͧoͬkʷaͣʸy?” MK reaches out, places a hand on Red Son’s shoulder before he can be stopped, and Red Son is going to freeze too, when—

Red Son explodes, and MK burns.

It’s not enough to melt the ice, no, but MK is thrown back against the wall, eyes wide.

The chill in his bones vanishes with a screech, and all he can hear is screaming.  For a moment, something rises within him.  

This is wrong.

He shouldn’t be doing this, he can’t be.

He isn’t a bad person, he isn’t cruel. He wouldn’t do this.  

He needs to stop, he needs to—

And then the flames vanish, and so does Red Son, and the cold slips back into place with brutal efficiency.  MK blinks, tries to remember where he is.  Right, DBK and Princess Iron Fan.  He got them!  Great.

His clones have been destroyed in the blaze, so he makes some new ones, and heads back to base.  

A shame he couldn’t get Red Son to understand, but they all will soon enough.

Good job, vessel.

MK feels warm.  It burns.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He’s deliberating back at his hideout about where his newest statues should go when he hears a sharp gasp from behind him.  He turns, and Mei is looking at him with something that looks like horror, but that can’t be right.  Why would she be horrified by something so beautiful?

“MK?” she starts, cautiously.  “What…happened to you?  You look really bad, why are you wearing blue?”

“I like the color!” he asserts.  “And I’m fine!”

She purses her lips, and then tries again.

“Um...MK.  What is this?” She points to the frozen menagerie behind him.

MK does not pout, even though he feels like he should.

“You ruined the surprise,” he grumbles, arms crossed over his chest.  “I stopped all the bad guys!  See?” he gestures to them.  “Now they can’t hurt anyone.”

There’s a pause, before Mei can catch up, where MK asks, “Hey, do you think people would want to put them in a museum?” He taps his chin with his index finger, deliberating.

“How did you...does Monkey King have powers like this?” she tries, a third time.

“No, I don’t,” MK jumps at the sound of Monkey King’s voice.  Monkey King floats down on his cloud, hopping off and looking at MK with an air of suspicion.  “Kid, how are you doing this?  Why are you doing this?”

“‘Cause they hurt you guys,” MK has been itching for a chance to explain, to get someone to understand.  “And the-my head voice gave me the idea.  Once these guys are all gone, everyone can be safe, and no one will leave!”

“Head voice?” Pigsy comes from behind a pillar.  “MK, what are you talking about?”

“You know, the voice in your head that sounds like you?” He explains.  “It-it told me how to do it.  And I’m not a carbon copy of Monkey King, it makes sense that I’d have a few new powers, you know?”

“No,” Tang appears, from somewhere.

When did all of his friends get here?  He can see Sandy, Mo in tow on his shoulder, peeking in. 

“You shouldn’t have any deviations.  Maybe your transformations would be different, but to go so far as to have ice powers?” Tang pushes his glasses up on the bridge of his nose, and his glasses flash.  “That shouldn’t be possible, given Monkey King’s power set.”

“What’s going on, kid?” Sandy’s voice is very soft, as he approaches, just like when they were on the boat.  

“Nothing!” MK’s voice is cheery as ever.  “I’m just fixing things, okay?  I think you need to ˢcͪhͧiͭllͧᵖ ʷoͧʲuͥᶰtᵍ,” he reaches forward, and Sandy and Mo are ice.

Mei screams.

“What?” MK looks on, bewildered, as his friends stare at him in horror.  “He’ll be fine!  It doesn’t hurt.  I’ve been freezing for ages!  It gets warm after a while.”

His eyes glow, and Tang pales.

“Baigujing,” he breathes, and MK turns to him.

“What about her?” he asks, and Tang puts a hand to his mouth, biting his lip and glancing between the rest of the group and MK, unsure.

“Bud,” Monkey King takes a few cautious steps toward MK, as if MK were a cornered animal.  His feet slip a little on the ice, but not enough to stop his careful approach.  His tail is poised and very still, not so much as a twitch from it.  “I think you’re feeling a bit...um, scrambled right now.  Why don’t you hand me the staff, and we can talk about this?” He gives MK a soft smile, but MK frowns.

If he takes the staff you can’t finish your work! Does he think you don’t deserve it anymore?

“But I need it,” he responds, simple and to the point.  “It’s mine.”  Right?  Because Monkey King gave it to him.  Gifts can’t be taken back, right?  MK’s still worthy, right?

Monkey King takes a deep breath, like he’s biting back a retort.

“Preeeeetty sure I let you borrow it.  ‘S called ‘Monkey King’s Staff’ for a reason, bud.  C’mon.” 

Another step forward.  MK grips the staff tighter.  

“MK, please,” Tang calls from his other side.

Don’t let him take it!

“We need you to let go!” Mei’s voice hits his ears.

They’re all lying to you!  

“Kid-I-c’mon, just let ‘em have it and we can go home,” Pigsy’s voice breaks, and MK feels like he’s going to break with it.

Is he even going to let you keep your home?!

Monkey King is close enough that MK can feel the heat of his power emanating off of him, of the great Sun Wukong.  His paws are soft and somehow even warmer than his power as he curls them around MK’s grip on the staff.

They don’t understand! They’re going to abandon you!

“That’s it, easy does it,” Relief colors Monkey King’s tone, and he smiles at MK as if MK were the sun.  It’s too soft to be true.  “Just hand it over, and we’ll make sure everything’s okay, alright?”

He starts to tug, pulling the staff out of MK’s grip ever so gently, and MK flinches as the voice rings loud in his ear.

YOU NEED IT DON’T LET HIM TAKE IT FROM YOU HE’LL RUIN EVERYTHING—

“It’s MͫIͥᶰNͤE!” MK shouts, and he slams the side of it into Monkey King’s stomach and launches his mentor across the room.

Monkey King crashes into the wall, groaning as he pushes away the falling rubble.  MK’s eyes are wild.  

“It’s mine, and you can’t have it!  I need it!” Ice crawls over his right hand, cementing his grip.  

Tang sees it, takes a step back, and turns to the two horrified bystanders.

“Run!” he shouts, and Mei bolts.  Pigsy stares, motioning for Tang to run, but Tang is too close to MK to do anything.

“What’d you do that for?” MK frowns, lowering a hand onto Tang’s shoulder.  Pigsy makes a choked sound.

“Go!  Bajie, get out of here!” Tang shouts, far more desperate than MK expected.  Why is everyone so terrified?  This is just a misunderstanding.

“Okay, tͭiͦmͦeˡ ͣoͭuͤt ͭfͦorͬ ͧᶰyˢoͣᶰuᶻᵃᶰᵍ,” MK pats Tang’s shoulder once, and Tang is rooted to the spot.  MK freezes him slower, because Tang isn’t strong, merely smart.  And if he does it slow, then he doesn’t have to chisel away the extra later.

Mei comes roaring in on her bike, and she picks up Pigsy by the back of his chef’s coat, throws him on the back of her bike, and zooms off.

“Tang!” Pigsy screams, but his voice gets farther and farther away.

“What’s wrong?” MK is so confused.  He looks to Monkey King, who is just sitting there on his cloud, horrified.

“Sun Wukong,” Tang says, voice hard.  The ice is up to his chest.  “Get out of here.  Bajie is going to be a wreck after this.”

“Can you make sense!” MK throws his hands up, tired of being ignored, talked over, walked over.  “Or at least ˢsͪtͧoͭp ͧᵖtalking!” And Tang goes silent, frozen.

MK turns back to Monkey King, and finds that his mentor has vanished.

Well, that won’t do.

After them!

MK jumps onto a disk of ice and slides across stone, feet still as the ice barrels over any obstacle, leading him past the dead sliver of a great mountain and up onto the streets.  Mei just has made her way to ground level, aided up by Monkey King, and MK zeroes in on them.

They pass by cars, and MK ignores the blaring horns as he slides over city streets.  The ice trailing behind him makes cars swerve out of control, but he needs to get to his friends.  They have to understand.  This is all for them!

The ice shoots forward, and he gets closer and closer, until Mei’s back wheel hits frost and the back of the bike jerks one way, the front the other.  The bike slips onto its side with immediacy, and Pigsy and Mei go sprawling as Mei’s bike falls apart, skidding across the ice.

Oh no.

“Mei!” he runs to her side.  

She groans, her bike suit torn.  He doesn’t even think about Pigsy at the moment, too worried about his best friend to think of the other person he hurt.  Plus, Pigsy’s a full grown adult, and MK has never seen Pigsy hurt like Mei is, so it doesn’t even register that Pigsy could be as injured as she is.  Her left arm has a large patch of skin that’s been burnt off by the road, and her legs are bleeding from various places.  Thankfully, she was wearing a helmet, so MK doesn’t have to worry about something so serious.  

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry.  Are you alright?  Where does it hurt?  I’m sorry!”

Some ice might help with the pain.

Right, right, icing the wound always helps.  He goes to make some, the power swirling in his hand, when a horn from a car blares, making him wince.  

Gosh, humans.  They’re so annoying!  If they could just stay out of the way, because he needs to fix this, that’d be great.

Remember the pause button?

It seems very inviting.  MK nods.  

Right.  A pause button.

“Just a sec, Mei,” he leaves her groaning on the ground, turning to face the city.

He slams his staff into the ground.

Ice shoots out in a wild dash.  It crawls over and into everything.  Cars, buildings, people—everything freezes.  He hears some screams, and watches people try and run for the hills, but the cold is faster. It billows down the streets, kicking up a white haze that is almost impossible to see through, that the pedestrians tripping on ice and solidifying get lost in, but it’s a snowy sheen that MK sees through perfectly. He can see the polished figures of buildings, glistening beneath their ice, the little mounds that must be people beneath the thick layer of ice. 

It’s all so pristine. So perfect.

Finally.

Finally.

MK is glad for the quiet.  With him and himself in his head, it’s hard to deal with outside noise. He just needed a moment of calm, to get to the task at hand.

The task at hand...Mei!

“Mei, are you—” he stops.  Mei and Pigsy aren’t there.  

His eyes search for them, and he can see Monkey King hurriedly pulling them up onto his cloud.  “Wait!”

Monkey King looks at him, and MK’s face is pleading.  He just wants to do right.  Why don’t they understand?  Once he fixes it all, everyone will be happy.  Can’t they wait?

“Sorry, bud,” Monkey King says.  

MK doesn’t know what he’s apologizing for. A rush of panic tries to grip his brain, something that was once so familiar, something that was once so him, but it disappears in MK’s desperation to act.

The cloud zooms off. He throws a hand out, running after it.

“NO!”

This is just like his dream.  At the edge of the city, a wall of ice rises.  It sparkles in the light of the setting sun, and MK raises it higher, and higher, as Monkey King and Mei and Pigsy and everyone he cares about most gets farther and farther away.

Monkey King punches through the ice, and they disappear into the horizon.

MK drops to his knees. They land hard on the frozen ground.

“You said they wouldn’t leave,” he whimpers out, crying because it hurts and he doesn’t know exactly why.

It’s more than just regular pain.  Something warm and different and yet familiar stings.  Something knows this isn’t right, this isn’t how it’s supposed to go!  If this was the right thing to do, why would everyone leave?

“I have to stop!” The words are forced out of his mouth.  

MK doesn’t know when the words are him and when the words are something else.  He doesn’t know who he is.  What’s right?  What’s wrong?  How can he tell?  

He’s just been listening to his own head, but his own head is arguing with itself.  

He slams his free fist into his temple, to try and make things settle.

Chains drag him to the ground, leaving him stuck.

You are doing everything just right.

The voice is soft in one ear, but on the other side MK hears No! On repeat.  No, this isn’t right.  You froze good people.  Innocent people!  You froze Tang and Sandy!  You made Pigsy cry!  You hurt Mei!

They don’t understand yet.  Monkey King is notoriously stubborn.  He isn’t ready for his successor to pass him yet.  All you have to do is wait for them to come back.  And they will.

It’s harder and harder to hear the argument against this.  

The voice sounds so self assured.  The warmth that doesn’t burn gets weaker and weaker, like a fire out of kindling.  

He wheezes, and tears turn to snowflakes on his skin.  He chokes on his own breath.  It comes out white and fogs his vision, but he can’t find it in himself to care.  

Everyone’s gone.  

He’s alone.  

This can’t be right.

It is.  You just haven’t done enough yet.

That, MK understands.  The need to do more, be more.  It makes far more sense that he hasn’t done enough, than anything else.

“They’ll come back?” He asks, and his voice sounds so loud in the quiet.  He feels a hand brush his hair back.  He leans into the touch, but it’s gone.

Of course.  

MK stands.  The chains vanish, and he smiles.

“Okay then!  Let’s get to work!”  

He hasn’t let go of the staff in ages.  He doesn’t think he can.  He turns to the mess he’d made in his rush job, the frozen city’s statue.  He has to fix that, it’s unsightly!  Mei and Pigsy and Monkey King won’t like a mess.

As he plans, as he hopes, he feels a smile in the back of his head.  It feels like a snowball to his skull, chilling and yet a comfort, somehow.

Wonderful work, Vessel.  We’re going to do great things together.

[crispycrimebrulee]

🎄25 Days of HXH: Day 8: Shalnark x Mistletoe🎄

A/N: I listened to Mistletoe one too many times. 

Taglist: @to-move-on-means-to-grow , @lifescreams27, @twistedsmth, @dukinaxael, @weeb-chick-181920 @my-child-gaara @absolute-flaming-trash @errorpeachy @yep-seeyalaterbranflakes​ @demon-hugger​ 

It’s times like this when the world really does seem to fall in love all at once, tenderness drifting through the air along with the snowflakes after a midnight snow. People seem to want to be closer than ever, not just for the sake of warmth during the cold months but for the sake of having someone be close to you, sharing the quiet feelings of the start of something new and beautiful, the start of potential lovers and exploration of hearts. You’d met Shalnark in the summer, and originally, it’d felt more like a fling than anything else. Part of him seemed very aloof, bouncing around, willing to give you the time of day but he seemed that way with everyone. He was great company, following you around on your adventures and usually being available to hang around spontaneously, unless he mentioned that he had work to do. He was sickeningly sweet with you, with a kindness that seemed unmatched, although there would be the occasion he would say something dark, and you could only wonder what he was hiding at the time. The summer months had gone on, and everything, all the feelings you had for him only got stronger, or worse depending on how one looked at it. Everything looked like it wouldn’t work out, that he’d vanish off to work one night and wouldn’t come back, not because he wasn’t able to, but because he’d grown tired of the fling, tired of you and tired of everything you’d done together. It never happened, though. He’d come around at some point, telling you he wanted to stick around and be with you, love you, care for you. You accepted, of course, and now you were 7 months in with him, and the relationship was better than you’d expected it to be. He was sweet, upbeat and a dotting boyfriend, always finding some way to make you smile. Mistletoe by Justin Bieber

One day, Shalnark had told you that he was free from work for a while, so he had plenty of time to spend with you, and you couldn’t be happier. Before you had the chance, he was rattling off activities to you, trying to figure out ways to spend the free time together. You’d mentioned to him that there was a Christmas town, a few hours away, and you’d never really been to one before. Shalnark was absolutely ecstatic at this idea, and immediately started planning it out with you, taking note of all the little shops that would be there. You let him talk, losing yourself in his voice and how bubbly he could get about things, his bright eyes absolutely glowing just thinking of possibilities. You would find yourself staring at him and all his soft features, daydreaming about general relationship things, to the point where you never realize when he’s stopped talking and he’s quietly staring back at you, preparing to tease you about staring at him like that til the sun went down. You couldn’t help it, really. Everything about him was loveable, from how he squeezed your hand to how he knew every possible way to make you laugh. Eventually it came time to venture off to said Christmas town, much to his excitement, and he wouldn’t stop pointing things out on the way there, talking about the things you could whilst you were there and you could only watch him become silent when you two arrived there, his expectations most likely being exceeded upon walking through the gates of the town. 

Walking down the main road of the Christmas town, you could feel your heart swell with wonder as you let your eyes jump from building to building, taking in the sight of the little town. Frosted window panes with garland and lights, lampposts with wreaths and bows, store fronts with window decorations and so much more. There was a light hum of conversation, mingling with the soft jingling of bells from far off, instinctively making you look to the sky, a part of you hoping to catch a glimpse of something your heart had never grown out of. Shalnark was mesmerised as well, the lights around reflecting in his eyes, although they faltered in comparison to his smile, beaming as his gaze seemed to be everywhere. He turned his look to you and you all but melted in those eyes of his, doe-eyed and full of excitement. You could only smile sheepishly at him and he laughed, a laugh that sounded like the bells far off in the town. Squeezing your hand, he pulled you along to a store, an ornament store. You glanced at him, wondering what he could possibly want in there. He pulled you along to the back of the store, where he picked up two empty and clear baubles and began looking around. Taking one from him, you examined it, wracking your brain about the appeal, if there was any.

“Uh...Shal..” you muttered, turning the bauble over in your hand.

“Yeah? What’s up?” he answered, turning to you.

“What’re you doing with these...they’re clear. There’s some pretty ones over there.” you pointed to an entire row of shelves with colorful ornaments. 

“Oh we’re decorating these! That’s why they’re clear, duh.” He turned back, looking around the shop again. Seeing an employee, he walked over to them, leaving you where you stood. In a few moments he came back and got you, letting you hold the other empty ornament. He led you to a small table with glue, glitter, felt, markers and a glue gun all scattered about the table, and he motioned for you to sit as he sat beside you. For about 40 minutes, you sat with Shalnark, decorating a Christmas ornament, casually sprinkling glitter on his hands while he would put felt in your hair, making a mess the whole way through. Shalnark was creating a little snowglobe-like scene inside his bauble, making two little snowmen out of cotton balls, making glittery snow and adding bits of blue to the upper quarter of the ornament. You wouldn’t have pictured him to be creative, much less adorably creative, let alone this gleeful making it all the while. Occasionally he would gasp and smile to himself when he figured out something else to add, happily grabbing things and sticking it around, clearly invested in his creative adventure. You found yourself staring at him again, studying those big green eyes full of an indescribable soft joy. You turned yours into a snowglobe as well, this one with tiny trees on the inside, with slightly glittery walls. You hummed to yourself, falling in tune with the song softly playing from the shop speakers. You couldn’t help but dance in your seat as you glued the cap on your ornament. Turning to Shalnark you jumped a bit, coming to find that he was watching you, his eyes practically burning into you with strange intensity. 

“Y..You okay?” you stuttered, scanning his concerningly happy yet blank stare.

“Yup! You’re just cute is all.” He smiled in return seeing you blush at his sudden confession. 

“Look who’s talking!” you teased, giving him a once over.

His eyes got slightly bigger and he blushed too, clearly not expecting you to hit him with a compliment in return. He laughed and handed you his ornament whilst taking yours.

“Someone’s a copycat, huh.” giving you an accusatory yet playful look as you rolled your eyes.

“It was a nice idea, okay? At least I didn’t copy all the way.” You pointed out, motioning to your little trees and his snowmen. He nodded in acknowledgement as he handed your ornament back to you. You made a move to hand back his but he shook his head.

“Made it for you. Keep it!” he said, attempting to wipe glitter from his hands to no avail.

You blinked, looking down at the ornaments. Pouting, you handed yours to him, feeling guilty at him potentially having nothing to remember this by.

Gawking at you he took the offer, pressing his face to the side of the ornament, deeply studying the inside. He smiled and got up, walking towards the register. Part of you hoped he would pay for the experience, but you doubted that that was what he was doing. Not minutes later did he motion for you to follow him, to which you scurried after, squinting at him.

“Did we steal these?” you demanded, poking at his cheek.

“I can’t confirm or deny that accusation, y/n!” avoiding the answer you were hoping for and yet also dreading. 

“Shal…” you sighed, stopping in your tracks.

He let out a soft ‘mhm’ and stopped as well, somewhat ignoring your apparent attitude about his stealing. You really couldn’t curb him from stealing things, since it was literally a profession of sorts to him, but there were times you really wish he just...wouldn’t. 

Sighing again you shook your head and slipped your hand into his and he smiled, continuing the walk to the next store. 

Supposedly you hadn’t dressed as warm as you thought you had, for after sometime of walking around looking at displays and shop windows, you found yourself shivering a little bit and you hugged yourself, burying your nose in the collar of your jacket. Feeling a tug, you looked up to meet Shalnark's gaze, gesturing over to a hot chocolate stand not too far off and you nodded at his silent suggestion. Walking over, you took the liberty to pay this time, much to Shalnark's silent brood, knowing how he felt about you spending your money. Not that he was a cheapskate, per se, but judging, again from his profession, spending money on a regular basis didn’t seem to be on his agenda. Taking your cups of hot cocoa, you sipped it carefully as to not burn yourself as you stepped a bit closer to Shalnark, who happily accepted your closeness. Looking at him, you stifled back a giggle (and a choke, since you were mid sip) at the frothy cocoa mustache he had, and he titled his head at your expression. Taking one of the napkins from under your cup, you handed it to him and he seemed to understand, except for the fact that he smiled, pocketed them and kept drinking. Huffing, you followed suit, enjoying the silent sipping, happy with being in his presence. 

After finishing, you continued to make rounds, visiting more stores and talking with Shalnark, indulging in the light banter and romance that he had to offer. You two had made your way to a clearing with a row of trees just a few feet away, decorated with lights and a paved walkway, small candy canes and wrapped cookies handing off the lower branches of the trees. You didn’t even have to ask Shalnark to walk down with you, he was already captured by the whole sight. As you were walking, you finally took note of all the couples that were actually there, both young and old. Intertwined hands, soft laughter and flirtatious remarks seemed to be everywhere, and you felt lucky to be able to relate to the scene of couples and love before you, feeling as though you’d picked a perfect person to be there with. A little bit ahead of you though, was a couple, nose to nose, giggling at each other, and that feeling of luck and happiness uncomfortably melted into awkwardness. Looking around again, you also managed to notice the amount of mistletoe hanging from between  each tree, between the lights, or just casually strewn about the branches. You glanced at Shalnark, seemingly oblivious to your slight discomfort. You didn’t want to push him into anything, it was unlike you, but part of you held a slight doubt within yourself. The most he’d done is place the occasional peck on your cheek, and you would do the same, and you could only do so much to avoid actually kissing him, because you wanted him to want it as much as you did. Sometimes you would find yourself staring at his lips with an almost unnerving desire, and he would catch you, always asking what you were staring at. You would never tell him though for fear of scaring him off. You figured he picked the perfect moment to do so eventually, but nevertheless you always felt he held back simply because he didn’t feel that sort of connection with you, making that self doubt fester inside of you. It was almost becoming obnoxious the amount of couples underneath buds of mistletoe, and you couldn’t keep an eyeroll from happening, huffing into your jacket, trying to avoid letting your eyes fall on one of the various couples. You looked around, only to find Shalnark staring at you as you occasionally found him doing and you blinked, his eyes seeming to read you and pick at your thoughts. You wouldn’t put it past him to read you as such, seeing as you probably looked as disgruntled as you felt. You rolled your eyes and looked back at, looking past your shoulder and then back at him, making sure it was you he was looking at. His eyes stayed on you all the same, only smiling and reaching over to pat your head. You smiled meekly back at him, trying to remove the obvious look from your face as best you could. You could tell your expression was pained, but you did your best to manipulate your aura into something else in a somewhat futile way to convince him otherwise. 

Continuing your walk, you found yourself shivering again, wishing for more hot chocolate as you blew little clouds into the frosty December air.

“You’re cold again?” Shalnark asked, slightly turning towards you, looking you over.

“Yeah...Kinda compromised being warm for having a nice outfit.” you blabbered, feeling embarrassed about your outfit choice. 

“I’m not giving you my jacket, though, so..” he laughed a little, pulling you to the side.

“Well I wasn’t going to ask, Shal!” you pouted, lying through your teeth feeling as though a potential chance for romance had been thwarted. 

Shalnark unzipped your jacket and you began shivering harder, the air practically rattling your bones. 

“There’s no way this sweater is warm, dummy.” He glanced at you, appalled by the fancy but slightly thin sweater you’d chosen to wear. 

“Well I wanted to look nice!” you argued, frowning at him as you zipped your jacket back up, desperate to conserve warmth as best you could.

Shalnark shook his head and took off his scarf and began wrapping it around your neck, much to your surprise.

“Oh thank you-” you yelped, feeling yourself lurch forward as the scarf was pulled.

You caught yourself, chest to chest with Shalnark, and your brain went blank, and then full panic mode. Sure you were cold, and sure a hug would be nice but this isn’t a hug and he is mighty close to your face right now.

His face was dangerously close to your, and you could feel his heart beat against yours as his chest rose and fell slightly. You couldn’t form words or thoughts for that matter, every cohesive deduction for the sudden change in atmosphere abandoning ship. All you could do was look absolutely confused and feel just as so.

And yet, he brought his face closer, making your face burn with nerves and anticipation. His lips hovered just above yours, a faint, comforting heat radiating from them. You glanced at his almost dazed look, seemingly lost in whatever he was thinking. You fidgeted and he snickered, reveling in your nervousness. He brought your lips to yours gently, carefully. Clearly calculated but not stiff or awkward, gently bring one hand to your waist, the other to your cheek, rubbing his thumb against your face, making you melt. He tasted sweet, like the drink from earlier and you pressed into him, wanting him closer, wanting more. He smiled mid kiss and took you up on your silent offer for more, continuing with no intention of letting up. After a minute or so, you both stopped to catch a breath, stunned for a minute by the rush of events. He put his forehead to yours and you smiled, letting your arms come around his neck, playing with the ends of his hair. He snapped his fingers to the left of you, catching your attention. Pointing upwards, you looked up and groaned and Shalnark snickered. He’d brought you under mistletoe and you hadn’t even realized. You playfully swatted at his shoulder, making him laugh more. 

“I wasn’t going to let you be cranky for the rest of the night, y/n, although that pout is pretty cute.” He teased, placing a kiss on your nose, causing you to scrunch it a bit, much to his pleasure. 

Part of you was sure he wasn’t aware that you were cranky about all the couples, but then again, he was always quietly perceptive of things.

Smiling, you placed a quick kiss on his lips and started to back away before he pulled you back, deepening it again.

You had no intention of playing hard to get at this rate, you were perfectly happy being here, right here with him, starting off a perfect Christmas season with him. 

[xmxisxforxmaybe]

I love these summer time prompts! 37.Driving late at night with the music up and with no particular destination. Screams Finn to me, but lets combine it with 26. Accidentally letting slip a dirty fantasy from the other list.

If you’ve watched the movie, see if you can catch my easter egg 😉 Also, I made this GIF just for this fic!

* * * * *

For the third time that night, your eyes caught Finn’s.

The first look was through the smokey haze of an early evening bonfire, the piled-high wood that had been chopped still a little wet from an earlier rain.

The second look was after you both reached for the same cup at the keg. Finn insisted you take the cup, and with a sweet smile, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and watched as you got your beer. You thanked him again and he nodded, and without turning back, you knew he was watching you walk away.

While the first looks could have been brushed off as nothing more than an exchange of intrigue, the third look had purpose behind it. Again with his hands in his pockets, Finn was watching as you laughed at one of Benny’s stories; instead of turning away when you caught him, he grinned as his eyes slid over you, head to toe—and back again.

 You slipped away from the conversation and approached the sexy, sort-of stranger.

 “Hey,” you said, your lips still turned up in a smile.  

 “Wanna go for a drive? Only had a beer earlier so I’m not shitfaced or anything.”

 “Sure,” you answered narrowing your eyes as you thought about exactly what you could be getting yourself into, but the smile never left your lips.  

 Tossing the last dregs of your beer in the trash, you looked up at the sky as you followed Finn to his car. Your body was caught in that delicious in-between of being buzzed but not quite, so your mind was hyper-attuned to everything around you—the warmth of the mid-summer night, the stars dotting the black sky as the moon outshone them all, and the cicadas thrumming in the trees and on the ground, singing for their mates.

 “Your chariot awaits,” Finn smirked as he held open the door.

 “Why thank you, kind sir,” you giggled as you slid down into his passenger seat, the leather cool under your exposed thighs. You looked around, surprised by how clean his car was because Finn always seemed like a bit of a scatterbrain. You had at least expected a few errant fast-food wrappers or maybe some extra clothes, but it was spotless.

 As soon as Finn settled into the driver’s seat, the car filled with the smell of him—detergent and the earthy-pine scent of his cologne.

 “Your car is clean and you smell nice,” you stated the obvious, pulling a toothy grin from Finn as he turned the key in the ignition.

 “You sure you didn’t have more to drink?”

 “It’s the—GAH!” you yelled, clutching your heart as the bass from the last song Finn was listening to vibrated through your skin and into your bones.

 Laughing, Finn reached out and turned the music down.

 “Sorry!”

 Laughing too, you waved it off, Finn sneaking one more glance at your surprised, cheerful face before pulling out of the driveway and taking a left onto the highway.

 “Windows or AC?” he asked over the lowered volume on the stereo.

 “Give me a sec,” you replied as you fished through your bag for a hair-tie.

 After assembling a messy bun, you reached over and rolled your window all the way. Finn followed suit and then turned the volume up again.

 “Love this song,” he said, glancing over at you with a smile.

 “Rap it then!”

 Finn bobbed his head a couple of times to pick up on the beat then he started enthusiastically rapping:

Two AM, summer night, I don't care Hand on the wheel Driving drunk I'm doing my thang Rolling in the midwest side now Living my life, getting our dreams People told me slow my roll I'm screaming out fuck that I'm a do just what I want Looking ahead no turning back If I fall if I die Know I lived it to the fullest

 You were laughing and when you joined in on the second verse Finn looked at you with amused surprise. You rapped together, giggling at the lyrics you messed up, and when the song was over you listened to the next one in comfortable silence as the wind mussed your bun and tousled Finn’s curls.

 “Should I ask where we’re going?” you shouted.

 Finn turned the music down so you could talk over it, and replied, “How’s ‘no where’ sound?”

 “Perfect,” you grinned.

 You looked out the window and watched the trees whipping by, nothing but black blurs in the late night. You could see the lights of town just ahead, but in this moment, you felt like telling Finn to drive . . . forever.

 “Can I ask you something?” he questioned, interrupting your thoughts.

 “Yeah,” you said turning to look at him.

 “Why’d you say yes? To coming for a drive, I mean.”

 “Starting with the obvious, you are pretty cute, Finn.”

 He laughed and shrugged his shoulders, switching his driving hand so he could lean into the center console, his arm now almost brushing yours.

 “That all it takes with you?”

 “Uh, no!” you pushed your arm into his, warm skin against warm skin but only for the briefest moment. “I know you’re a good guy.”

 “And how do you know that?”

 “I . . . may have made some inquiries about you,” you teased.

 “You—” Finn said, cutting himself off as he pointed at you, “Made inquiries about me?”  

 “Maybe.”

 Finn pursed his lips and nodded, his eyes sparkling brighter and brighter as you drove into town and the streetlamps illuminated the inside of his car.

 When you reached a stoplight, he relaxed his driving arm and turned his head toward you.

“So you maybe made some inquiries about me and you maybe liked what you heard enough to take a chance on going for a drive with me. About right so far?”

 Without looking over, you smiled and bobbed your head in a slow nod.

 “Light’s green.”

 “So it is.”

 “Go!” you shouted as you laughed, finally turning to look at him and seeing his—were they blue? green?—eyes looking over at you with a brightness that made your breath catch in your throat.

 Finn finally broke and giggled, laying on the gas and speeding through the intersection. You laughed, too, shaking your head and when he asked if you wanted to stop at the next gas station for something to drink, you said yes.

 He insisted on paying for your water and the handful of snacks you absolutely needed, and when you settled back into his car and tore into your skittles, you stopped and asked, “Am I allowed to eat in here?”

 Finn chuckled and held out his hand. You poured a few skittles into his palm and he tossed them back, at least three of them pinging off the door because he missed half of his mouth.

 “Now you have to sweep out my car tomorrow.”

 “Fiiinn!” you whined. “You did that!”

 “You brought forbidden food into my car.”

 Your mouth popped open as you tried not to grin, but when Finn started laughing, you both lost it, still giggling as he pulled out of the gas station and left town.

 Once more the car plunged into darkness, lit only by the bright blues and soft fluorescent accents on Finn’s dash. You let one arm drift to the window, holding your hand up and flat to fight against the rush of the wind, and your heart leapt into your throat when you felt Finn’s fingers crawl over your thigh, just above your knee.

 That little touch sent a wave of warmth through your body and you turned to look at him, his face stoic until you snaked your arm across the console and rested your hand on the thigh of his khaki-colored shorts.

 His lips turned up in a smile and you leaned forward to turn the radio up again.

 As you sang along, Finn’s fingers would flex or softly stroke the bare skin of your leg, and in return, you would give his thigh a teasing squeeze.

 “My turn to ask,” you said, interrupting your current song by leaning forward and turning it down a bit.

 “Ask away, babe.”

 “Why did you ask me out?”

 “Did I . . . ask you out?” he said, his voice intoned with a teasing lilt.

 “Don’t play. I really wanna know! Besides, I answered when you asked.”  

 “Mmmhmm—if you call ‘maybe’ an answer,” he said his voice lilting into a higher octave as he imitated the sound of your maybe.

 You tsked and removed your hand from his thigh, shifting in your seat so his hand fell away from yours.

 “Okay—okay! I asked you out because I think you’re fucking beautiful. And I was hoping you were cool, you know like fun to hang out with . . . which now I know you are.”

 “You think I’m beautiful?”

 “Fucking beautiful, I believe I said.”

“Yeah. You did.”

 Finn glanced over and when he saw the way you were looking at him, his face lit up with another toothy grin.

 “Have I fucked this all up yet?”

 “Definitely not—have I?”

 Finn laughed, “Can girls really ever fuck up during this part?”

 “What part?”

 “The getting to know you part.”

“Either you haven’t dated a lot or you’ve gotten really, really lucky because yes! Girls can absolutely fuck this part the hell up.”

 “Truth is . . . I don’t always get to this part. I do the asking, then it’s a pretty short run right to the rejecting.”

 “No, Finn. That’s not rejection. That’s a great example of a girl fucking something the hell up because she lost out on a chance to get to know you.”

 Finn didn’t say anything, nor turn to look at you, but he found your hand with his and laced your fingers together.

 You wished more than anything that he wasn’t driving because you wanted to kiss him—kiss him until the only thing he could remember was that a girl he thought was beautiful wanted to get to know him.

 “I’ve never had sex in a car.”

 Finn’s hand jerked on the wheel and you grabbed the door’s armrest to steady yourself, a bubble of laughter escaping, sounding more like a hic-cup as you turned to look at him, his lips opened in surprise and his eyes dead-focused on the road.

 “It wasn’t an invitation!” you said, snorting with laughter. “Just a . . . possible fantasy for one day when the right guy with the right, clean car comes along—even if it has a few errant skittles on the floor.”

 Finn had let go of your hand to steady the wheel and he kept his fists at 10 and 2 while you spoke.

 “Fuck, Y/N. You can’t just blurt that out!”

 “Clearly!”

 “I mean . . . that’s like issuing a challenge.”

 “Because you’ve had so much sex in a car?”

 Finn gave you a pointed look that reaffirmed he had sex in cars probably more than in a bed.

 “It’s . . . convenient. Awkward, sometimes, but convenient.”

 “I’m more of a visual learner,” you stated, watching Finn’s hands grasp the wheel again just as he was starting to relax.

 “I will, uh, keep that in mind.”

 “Relax,” you soothed, leaning into the console and returning to your earlier position of resting your hand on his thigh. “I’m not that easy on a first date—if that’s what we’re calling this?”

 “We can call it a date . . . if the night ends with a kiss?”

 You bit your lip and scanned his face, watching as the corners of his mouth fought to behave.

 “I’d like that.”

 And with your words, Finn’s mouth lost its battle to remain neutral and for the hundredth time since he met you, he grinned.

[corpse--diem]

Dead Friendship Forever | Regan & Erin

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @kadavernagh​ & @corpse--diem​ SUMMARY: Former DFFs bump into each other in a cemetery with death on the brain.

Cemeteries were full of more life than most people gave them credit for. Mornings were her favorite, when the sun started to warm the world again. Erin had her biases and the added convenience of living across the street from one her entire life. But there were few places in this town that grounded and comforted her all at once like Strawford Park could. It made this place feel like home again if only for a few moments. Not even this place could silence the voices in her head--especially her uninvited guest--but it was worth it for what she hoped it would bring. Her feet slowed at a portion of the path that broke off into the middle of the cemetery that stretched into a sea of assorted headstones and greenery as far as anyone could see. Knew that if she took a left now and another left at the second tree further up she’d be at her parents’ plot. It probably looked like an overgrown, weed-riddled mess at this point. She could hear her mother’s scorning, teasing tone. How does someone kill marigolds, Erin? I picked these on purpose! You’ve got to try and kill them! A small smile lifted the corner of her lips and she stared hard at the path. She almost made that left turn. Almost.

Something stronger than nostalgia won control of her movements and she continued forward. Not today. Not now. There were enough demons she had to face these days without diving into that emotional baggage. Lifted her head when she heard footsteps not far and a jolt of panic stopped her again like a brick wall had just shot up in front of her. Shit. “Regan…” she started, a soft roll of her eyes. A taste of the anger from their last encounter months ago in the morgue flared up in her chest. Present, but considerably tame in comparison. Time had an effect on emotions like that sometimes. “What are you doing here?” Erin asked, wincing inwardly. Regretted the insanely obvious question as soon as she’d asked it. This was Regan, after all. “I--uh--,” she shook her head quickly, narrowing her eyes at the path just beyond Regan. Fuck. She could do this. Play the pleasant adult before moving on. Hopefully. “How are you?” She asked.

The moon is so wonderful tonight… I bet Ulfric is loving it. “What?” Regan asked aloud, even though she suspected no one would answer. “It’s daytime. And who is Ulfric?” That name sounded familiar, though. A scream that seemed to shoot out of a nearby headstone made her freeze in place, before sprinting away. Cemeteries used to be so peaceful and quiet. Even though they still had some kind of tranquility to them, some kind of indescribable comfort, it wasn’t the same as it used to be. Regan kept her eyes low, sweeping them across the grass in front of her to watch for signs of squirrels and birds. She almost didn’t see that someone else was going for a stroll of their own nearby. But then she heard her name, coming from-- “Erin?” Oh, no. The last time they saw each other flickered through Regan’s mind. The broken glass, the fear in Erin’s eyes. And even before that, Erin nearly drowning in a glass of water because of words that Regan had spoke. A shudder rolled down her spine. There was no way Erin wanted to be here talking to her right now, and she couldn’t even blame her for that.

“What am I doing here?” Regan looked around at the sea of headstones. A disembodied voice shouted something about the lake, and a whisper curled past her ear. She shivered, but did her best to ignore it. “I go for a walk here a couple times a week. I live right nearby, remember? I assume you’re doing the same thing.” Regan eyed Erin, studying the dark circles under her eyes and the slump of her shoulders. She seemed tired, and not in the way of being sleep-deprived. “Uh,” she sputtered, as Erin seemed to do the same. Small chat. That’s what this was. “Look, you don’t have to-- I mean, I know things aren’t-- I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want--” She pressed a cold palm to her forehead and sighed to herself. At herself. Looked back at Erin. “I'm... things have improved recently, by a little over five feet. Are you alright? You look tired, and just a little bit annoyed, both of which are reasonable.” She paused, considering for a moment. “Do you want to talk about--” Nope. She clamped her mouth shut. Bad idea.

Crap. Did this mean Erin was going to have to avoid certain cemeteries now to skirt around awkward interactions now? She hadn’t thought about it before literally, and even as justifiable as her anger was, the pettiness layered in there too. Was she still going to do it? Probably. The hurt in her chest was as real as her fury. “Yeah, right. I remember. Dumb question, sorry,” she said. Ugh. That night she’d accidentally stumbled upon the medical examiner’s door felt like a lifetime ago. Almost instantly, that macabre bond formed over anatomically incorrect skeleton cookies and wholly invested death chat. It was almost still a sweet memory. She’d promised Regan more than she’d ever bargained for that night too. “Five feet, huh?” It was petty again, she knew that, but a small genuine smile overtook her. Oh, Blanche was going to be pissed, but the words left her before she had the better sense to shut it down. “I heard something about you flying out of the window--I mean off the handle for a little bit?” She asked. Nope. She couldn’t do this. This conversation had gone on for less than two minutes and already she was snipping at her like a toddler who hadn’t napped.

A heavy sigh fell from her and she regretted her last comments already. “I’m fine. And I hope you’re fine too, Regan. I mean that. I’m glad you’re… better.” She shook her head, rubbing the bridge of her nose. That’s a nice skull. Seriously? Her eyes snapped back open and she looked up. “What? No. What did I just--I don’t want to talk about skulls. I don’t want to talk about anything.” She shifted tensely where she stood. “Should you--should you even be here? What if you, uh--” she gestured with her hand towards her mouth. The scream.

Regan felt a sigh leave her mouth as Erin seemed to make peace with the fact the two of them were standing closer than a mile apart. She even did her best to ignore the curt comments. “That’s not amusing.” She wasn’t taking the bait. Blanche had thrown so much of it her way already; Bishop, too. But the sudden jerking of Erin’s head made Regan jump. “What? I didn’t say anything about-- I mean, I can talk about skulls if you want me to. But you just said you apparently don’t want to discuss them. Unless… do you have one with you? Can I see it?” Doubtful. On both counts. Erin looked like the only thing she wanted to hand over was a punch to the eye orbital. But there was a fresh skull nearby, wasn’t there? It flicked at her senses from a short distance away. Every second she stood there seemed like a bad idea-- maybe worse than inviting her to the morgue before. “I should probably, uh-- I mean, it’s getting dark out.” Regan motioned to the sky, which was slowly filling with the colors of an old contusion.

But Erin asked a question and, wait, what was she doing with her mouth? Oh. Oh. Of course. “We’re in a cemetery. If that did happen, it’d be much safer here than just about anywhere el-- uh, not that I-- I’m not going to scream at you.” Regan hissed air through her teeth. Lungs, don’t make me a liar. The pressure stirred, but didn’t try to escape. “It’s still, uh, I’m working on it. Trying to.” She hung her head down for a moment, kicking up a small bit of fresh grave soil. “I’m really sorry about what happened at the morgue. I never meant to hurt you. Really. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, and I still think everyone in this town is out of their mind, but I’m doing everything I can to avoid hurting anyone else.” She met Erin’s eyes, frowning. They had been friends, once. Maybe not close, but they’d connected in a way few people could relate to, and that was something special, wasn’t it? But looking at Erin, it seemed the wound from before was still very much open, and given how her lessons with Deirdre were going and the lack of progress being made, maybe that was for the best. “I’ll leave you to it. But if you did want a skull -- and not a human one -- there’s one buried a few inches underground there, I think.” Regan pointed past a few headstones.  

Erin could see that Regan was trying, and she felt a twinge of guilt for being so short. Not too guilty, but enough to stop her from letting loose much more of her barely contained wrath. It wasn’t meant for the doctor, not right now anyway. But wait--she didn’t say anything about the skulls? Fuck. That must have been Kaden. Again. “Right,” she shook her head. That was getting old too. But even as Regan tried to comfort her about the screaming thing, some fear nagged at her regardless. Once you endured a Regan scream, even a scream-lite, you didn’t want to have to tolerate another one. And they were in prime death territory. Bodies were buried beneath their feet and completely surrounded them.

“No, no, that’s--okay,” Erin shook her head, turning down the skeleton offer. Another time, that probably would’ve been a pretty fun way to spend her morning but those days were past them. Not like she had much time to spare for light, fun things anyway. “I should--” I wonder if the wings also flutter during an orgasm. The loud, intrusive thought made her stop mid-speech and all Erin could do was gape like a fish over at Regan. And now she was thinking about it. And suddenly this all had become way, way too much. “I’ve gotta go. Now,” she averted her eyes, suddenly blushing red. In her haste to rush out of there, she brushed Regan’s arm and fumbled a little, mumbling a small apology as she tried to keep going.

Get out of here, Kavanagh. As each second ticked by, it became increasingly clear that Erin was either still angry, or still afraid, or both, and there was no way to change that. Not now, and maybe not ever. Regan tried to ignore the sting of it, of such a potential friend lost, but it was hard to leave it well alone instead of trying to dislodge it and figure out exactly why everything had to go so wrong. Just as Regan was turning away, and just as Erin seemed to want to do the same, Erin froze like something gripped her from behind. “Erin?” Regan turned back toward her, heels swiveling in the dirt. I’ve gotta go. Now. “Did I-- what did I--” But Erin’s face was burning red, probably the warmest thing in the cemetery. “What happened? Are you alright? Did you have a heart palpitation or--”

Erin’s skin against her arm. She really was warm, but something about the contact filled Regan’s insides with an icy dread, and the cemetery around them unmade itself, headstones falling into nothingness and grass turning into wooden floorboards. There was a flash of fury as Erin lunged toward the man with a baseball bat. It made hard contact with his temple and he was on the floor. Regan screeched, falling backwards. She could feel wet grass caught in her palms and her coccyx collide with the dirt, but she couldn’t see it. Instead she saw Erin scavenge his pockets. Gun catching the light. Erin rolled him into a body bag, her face hard and determined with not a hint of guilt or disgust or shame or-- another flash, this time of death all around her, dark and suffocating rather than familiar and comforting. Regan could feel it thick in the hearse, thick around Erin. Could feel the pull of the man from the trunk. “Of course you bled in the van. You had to ruin one last thing on your way out, huh?” Erin was talking. To the cadaver of the man she’d just smacked with a baseball bat. The man she’d killed. Regan repeated the words aloud trying to make sense of them, trying to pull them apart and understand just what she was seeing, but if Erin was a murderer, then there was no understanding. None to be found. The cemetery rebuilt itself and Regan squeezed her eyes shut, trying to push down both the nausea and the scream threatening to pry itself from her lungs.

Erin was still making strides to get away when she realized Regan had stopped talking. Regan didn’t normally just stop talking--babbling and nervous rambling was easily one of her more noticeable traits, and she had been in the middle of exactly that when she’d suddenly stopped. The glance back froze Erin’s entire being in place. Those fucking eyes. The same black ones she saw at the morgue. She was bracing for it--the scream. Hadn’t she literally just voiced her fears about that? Was this literally about to be the morgue all over again? She didn’t have time to be angry--her body was already slipping into an adrenaline fueled flight stance. Regan fell back, staring off at nothing again, though she knew that wasn’t true. She saw something. Oh fuck. Oh, here it came. Erin was turning to run now when Regan opened her mouth--

“Of course you bled in the van. You had to ruin one last thing on your way out, huh?”

It took a few moments but the chilling realization built up thick in her chest the longer she stared. Dale. Slowly, her face burning deeper than before. “What di-” she tried to ask but words scraped the inside of her throat. How could she know that? Where the hell did that come from? Had she seen something? No. No. That was impossible. She didn’t come any closer to her, didn’t try to help her up. Just stared, that itch to run needling at her thighs. “What did you just say?” Erin finally managed with a slight waver, nearly devoid of her previous anger. The chilling fear was rapidly rebuilding that one, though. “What the hell did you just say to me, Regan?” She snapped, stepping forward.

For a moment, Regan could still see it pulsing behind her eyeballs. Erin’s fury and fear. Erin killing a man. Erin shoving him into a body bag. Erin sticking him in the back of her hearse. As headstones and statues remade themselves in front of her, she tried to summon that dark room back like it had been a memory rather than a hallucination. It felt close, but before she could get ahold of it, it streaked away, replaced by the solid feeling of the ground underneath her. But it-- it didn’t matter. Erin would never-- she wouldn’t, right? But how well did Regan really know her? They were friends, once. They were. Was she capable of killing? One hard lesson learned from the autopsy suite: everyone was.

But trusting a hallucination? Kaden thought they were real. Visions, he’d called them, ridiculous though it was. Erin, too. And now here she was, in a situation where she probably hoped Regan would still refuse to put any stock in them. Regan laid her palms flat against the wet grass and looked up at Erin’s petrified face. The blood had drained from it, and she looked as lifeless as the skeletons under their feet. Erin was trying to say something, trying to stutter through it. And there was that look. Stony but fearful. The same one Erin had given her at the morgue that was etched into Regan’s mind like the sound of a funeral bell.

“I said-- why? You clearly heard me. Does it mean anything to you? I thought I saw, I mean, I did see you--” Regan gave Erin a hard stare. Was she looking at a murder right now? Had she known the words had been her own? As impossible as it seemed-- no, of course it wasn’t possible. But it was difficult not to look past it, to not factor it in, to not even consider it. And Erin was angry now. She was, wasn’t she? Slowly, Regan wobbled to her feet, bracing herself on a nearby headstone, just for a second. “I, uh-- sorry, I got lightheaded for a-- I’m going to go. Now. I’m going to go now. Right now.” One more look over at Erin before she started running. It had to be all in her head. But if it wasn’t, and if for just an instant she could set aside centuries of medical knowledge and publications and logic, then… then she needed time to make sense of the unthinkable.

[love-fireflysong]

Day 24: Wedding

Fandom: Until Dawn  Character(s): Ashley Brown, Chris Hartley Words: 3349 Rating: Teen (kissing got *slightly* more heated then I intended. whoops. also language.)  Author’s Notes: If you thought that day 21′s story was fluffy oh boy do you have another thing coming. It’s not nearly as sappy (i dont think ill ever be able to write anything like that ever again), but it’s certainly up there!

It’s not that Ashley wasn’t having a good time, because she was! Surprising even her honestly. But it was all becoming a bit much. There was too many people pressed together, some dancing, some still sitting at their tables. The music was too loud and and leaving her head feeling muffled and heavy, and the people sitting at the table around her talking and laughing weren’t helping that matter either. It was even this weird combination of too dark and too bright for her eyes to handle, the open outside area under the canopy was pitch dark with night outside, but the bright spots of the lantern lights strung around the canopy had been making her eyes sting for a while.

Not to mention, it was just so hot in here. A combination of all the people pressed together in one area and the fact that it was a mid-August night, was making Ash feel like her skin was about to crawl away from her and just go die somewhere else. Preferably the pond located only a few minutes walk from the wedding site. Now, to be fair, a good part of her was aware that while this was all a lot for her to handle, the two or three glasses of wine she had had earlier certainly weren’t helping matters any. 

She just needed to leave. Not the entire area exactly, but get far enough away that she could sit down on one of the nearby benches and just take in some peace and quiet. Feel the air of the humid August night on her skin. Maybe actually take a swim in the aforementioned pond and cool off. Okay, no, she wasn’t actually going to do that. As tempting at the idea sounded (and boy oh boy was it tempting), she wasn’t nearly that drunk. So she stood up on shaky legs, excused herself from the table where she had been sitting with Chris and his parents (and a couple of cousins she had regrettably forgotten the names of already) and walked off.

She passed Chris’s cousin, Madeline, and her new wife on the way out, giving them both her congratulations once again, and assured them that she wasn’t going far, just to clear her head a little. The new wife, Rosalie, had nodded in understanding and pointed her towards a little area that she had always found perfect for getting away from the hecticness of life. Ash had thanked her profusely and headed off in the direction indicated, but not before Madeline had thanked her for coming (again) and mentioning how nice it was to finally meet her (again).

Ash returned the sentiments, and hurriedly left the too hot canopy in the direction Rosalie had indicated, finding the bench easily enough after only a couple of minutes. She could see why Rosalie had recommended it to her. It was close enough to the wedding party that it was still in sight, but far enough away that the sounds were more of a background noise that meshed well-enough with the more natural sounds of the park. It was even close enough to the pond that the light breeze carried some of it’s more cooling properties to her. 

She wasn’t sure if that just made her want to jump into the pond more or less now.

But all in all, surrounded by towering trees and blooming flowers, it was nice. It was private. And best of all, it was quiet. So Ash let out a sigh of relief and leaned back a bit to take a look at the night sky above her.

“There you are, Ash!”

She looked back towards the area where the canopy was and smiled at the sight of Chris making his way towards her. Sure, she had wanted some time on her own, but she could never refuse time with Chris. So she waved her hand up in greeting and when he got closer, patted the seat next to her in invitation. He sat down without any hesitation.

“You feeling okay? You were starting to look a little out of it there for a bit.”

Ash wasn’t surprised that Chris had caught that, but it didn’t make the butterflies in her stomach flutter any less. “Yeah, I’m okay. It was just starting to be a little too much at once, you know. Feeling much better now.”

The short bark of laughter that he let out was more akin to an exhale of breath. “Yeah, I feel ya. Sorry for making you come to this by the way. I know that these really aren’t your thing, not that they’re really mine either though.”

Ash rolled her eyes and bumped his shoulder with hers. ‘You didn’t make me come, you dip. You asked, and I said yes. I could have refused at any point and you wouldn’t have stopped me.”

“True. Shame that Josh wasn’t able to make it either though.” 

“He has that whole Cape Cod thing with his sisters every August. Nothing to be done about it.” She shrugged, and then couldn’t help the snort that came out. “We’d really have a party going on then, though.”

Chris nodded enthusiastically at her. “Oh man. Can you imagine? I mean it’s already pretty busy in there,” he stuck his thumb back towards the wedding party under the canopy, “but that would be tame compared to whatever Josh would turn it into.”

“Conga line for miles.”

“At least!”

The two of them broke out into unrestrained giggles, not helped at all by the wine that both had been drinking that night. Until finally Chris looked up at her and gave a bashful smile, and Ash was once again reminded how much the color of his dress shirt brought out his eyes. Not that she would ever tell him of course. Josh would have, would have teased her mercilessly about it in fact, but she wasn’t Josh. She wasn’t nearly that brave.

“I really, really do appreciate you coming with me to this, Ash.”

The smile she gave back was just as shy, and she bumped their shoulders together again. The conversation trailed off after that, but she didn’t mind too much. She thinks he doesn’t either. She likes sitting next to Chris like this, when things have gotten quiet and soft and it’s just them. 

After a few moments, she looks down towards her hands and notices how close his right hand is to her left. All she would have to do is reach out a little and she could wrap her pinky with his. She spends about five seconds debating on doing it, only to feel her face flush at the realization. Jesus Christ, maybe she’s more drunk then she thought.

“Can’t believe your cousin booked an entire botanical garden for the wedding.” 

“Huh? What?” Chris gives her a look of confusion, a little jarred from the sudden topic of conversation, but understands quickly enough. “Oh! Yeah, I think it was because of Rosalie actually. She loves flowers and plants and shit, studied it in college or something.”

“Horticulture.”

“Gesundheit.”

Ash rolls her eyes, but can’t help the fond smile. “It’s the study of plants, dork.”

“Hey, it’s not like I was able to shove a dictionary into my pocket or anything. I don’t even have pockets, Ash. Can you believe that? Had to leave my phone in my coat!”

She tries to disguise the laugh as long-sufferiing sigh, she really does! But she can tell she failed by the way his face lights up just a bit. “Oh no. No pockets. I wonder what that’s like,” she gestures dryly to the dress she’s wearing.

Chris laughs as he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “Alright, alright. I get it. I’ll stop.” He gives her a curious look though. “Why’d you ask about the gardens though?”

Ash moves her hands so they’re clasped in her lap and looks down at the hole the toe of her shoe is digging into the dirt. “I don’t know,” she says finally. “I guess it just surprised me is all. Not exactly the location I’d choose myself.”

“Oh ho! So you’ve thought about what your wedding would be like Miss Brown?”

She looks up from her new project and into the look of exaggerated interest on Chris’s face. One hand is firmly clasping onto his glasses as he lays into her with an intense look. She gives a casual shrug and smile. “Once or twice.”

“Well you can’t just say that and expect me not to dig, Ash!” He moves placing his head into the palm of his hands as he balances his elbows on his knees, staring at her with wide-eyed interest. She can’t help the laugh that bubbles out. “So spill! Tell me everything.” 

“Oh man. Um, I guess I’ve always kind of imagined a backyard wedding?” She pauses to think it over for a moment before giving a quick jerk of her head. “No, it’s definitely going to be in a backyard. And with only close friends and family.”

Chris nods in understanding. “Small and private. Sounds like you.” He starts to swallow nervously and looks away for a second, and for the life of her she can’t understand why. “Got anyone you imagine it’s with?”

Ashley doesn’t respond, instead biting her lip and returning to look at the hole that has now expanded to twice it’s size. 

“Wait, are you serious?”

She’d like to think the shrug she gives is casual, but she knows it’s anything but.

“Holy shit. Oh, holy shit. You have a crush on someone?”

“I mean, it’s not that big of a deal—”

“Are you kidding me right now, Ash? Not a big deal? This is a huge deal! You have a crush on someone and you’ve never told me or Josh?!”

Ash just bites her lip harder, still refusing to look at Chris, knowing her face is probably as red as the wine they’d been drinking earlier. “Josh knows,” she mumbles out.

“Wait, so you told Josh, but you never told me?”

“I didn’t tell Josh, he just, sorta, well, guessed. Correctly.”

“Oh. I mean, I guess that tracks. He kinda sorta guessed mine too.”

“Wait.” She raises her head to look at Chris, only to see that he’s not actually looking at her, but off to the side where the pond is, scratching awkwardly at his jaw. “You have a crush on someone too? How have I not known about this?”

“Um, because I never told you?”

“Nuh uh. Not going to work. You’re completely terrible when it comes to keeping secrets. So spill. Who’s the person?” She doesn’t want to know. Her heart is already shattering as she speaks, but she needs to know. Know who this person is that managed to get Chris’s attention when she couldn’t after all these years.

“I’m not gonna tell you, Ash! Are you going to tell me yours?”

“Well, no, but—”

“Exactly!” She watches Chris stand up, limbs jerky as he clumsily makes his way to his feet. “So let’s just to back to the party and we’ll both forget that this conversation ever happened and—”

The words are out of her mouth before she knows it. “Let’s play a game.” And she wishes she could take them back almost immediately. Oh, she really was way more drunk then she thought. He was giving both of them an out, a chance to walk away and pretend that this conversation wasn’t happening and that they weren’t about to ruin their friendship. “Let’s play a game.”

Chris groans tiredly as he drags his hand over his face. “Ash, I’m not really in the mood for games right now. So let’s just go back—”

“Five questions.” She swallows nervously. Oh shit, she was going to ruin everything if she didn’t stop talking now! “We both ask each other five questions about who our crush is. Yes or no questions only."

“Just five questions? That’s it?” She nods and he sighs in what could be defeat, but he sits back down heavily next to her on the bench. “Fine. But just five questions, alright? Do you want to go first, or should I?”

Ash swallows and draws in a shaky breath for courage. “I’ll go. It was my idea in the first place.” She could do this. She could figure out who Chris liked. And then, when she was home and safe under her covers, she could cry her heart out later. “Do I know them?”

“Yeah.” The nod he gives is jerky. “Yeah, you know her pretty well actually.”

“Oh! So it’s a girl!”

The laugh Chris makes is a tight thing, but it’s a laugh nonetheless. “No fair! That doesn’t count.”

Ash’s smile is forced, but not as forced as it could have been. “Not my fault, you’re offering more information then you need to.” Okay, so that narrows it down to either Sam, Emily, Jessica, or Josh’s sisters. Except now she’s really confused to how in the world she missed this.

“Still not fair. Okay, um, do I know them?”

Ash shakes her head but she’s laughing. “Doesn’t count! You can’t ask me the same question I just asked you!”

“Wait, that wasn’t in the rules before! You are rigging this game to be in your favor, Ash!” The laugh that Chris makes is much more natural and it set’s her a little more at ease. She’ll be fine. She can do this! “Fine then,” she watches him hem and haw for a moment to find a question. “Do they make you laugh?”

“Yes.”

The sigh Chris gives then, is one in relief. “Good. You have a cute laugh, you deserve someone who brings it out of you.”

“Oh.” Never mind, she was wrong. She can’t do this. She absolutely cannot do this. “Um, okay. Have you known them long?”

“Yeah.” Narrowing it down even further to Beth, Hannah, or Sam. “Is this a recent development?”

“No, it's not. Have you ever asked them out?”

She’s a little surprised by how puzzled Chris looks at the question. “I mean, I haven’t asked them on a date or anything, I guess?” Hmm. She’ll narrow the question down a little bit more next time. “Do they like cookies?”

She can’t help the giggle that escapes. “What? I mean, yeah, of course they do. What kind of question is this?”

“I’m running out of idea’s Ash! You’re the brain person here, not me! I’m just the funny guy with the jokes!”

“And sometimes you can’t even pull that off.”

“Oh, ouch. Low blow.”

Ash is too busy still laughing, happy that things have finally gotten back to normal between them, that at first she doesn’t notice his reaction to her fourth question. “Did you ask her to be your plus one to the wedding?” And then she does, she’s noticed he’s stiffened right up in his seat and now refusing to look her in the eyes.

“Yeah, I did.”

Oh. Well now Ash hates whoever Chris asked. Why wouldn’t they want to come with him? He’s the funniest, nicest guy she knows and it doesn’t matter that Hannah and Beth are off vacationing in Cape Cod or that Sam has that work placement thing at that national park or—

Wait. She turns to stare at Chris in shock. There’s no way. There’s absolutely no way. But, it makes sense. Both she and Chris have known about the Washington’s Cape Cod trips in August for years now. And Sam had been so excited, she had been talking about her national park thing for months. So, that just left...

Her.

“Chris,” she manages to squeak out. “You still have two more questions.”

“No, I-I think I’m done playing now.” He starts to try and stand up again, but Ash has already reached for and grabbed onto his shirt sleeve to keep him there. 

“It’s just two more questions, and you can repeat all the questions I’ve already asked if you want. I don’t care. Just please, please don’t go yet.” She knows that she’s being desperate right now, but she doesn’t care. She has one more question, and if she’s wrong she’s never going to be able to recover. But she doesn’t care, she needs to know!

“Ash, I really don’t think—”

“Please!”

“Do I know them?”

“Yes! God yes! You know him, Chris! You see him everyday!” His eyes have widened behind his glasses, but Ash is already asking her question. “Did you ask anyone other than me to be your date this thing?”

If his eyes were wide before, they’re practically saucers now. “What? I don’t—”

“Answer the fucking question, Christopher!”

“No! I didn’t— I didn’t ask anyone else!”

Ash settles back down onto the bench, breathing far too heavily than is appropriate. There’s no way that this is actually happening to her right now. No way in hell. She’s going to wake up any moment in her bed and realize that this was all a dream. “You have one more question.” If she has any thoughts towards how absolutely breathless she sounds right now, she couldn’t care less.

“Ash, listen, I—”

Slowly, she shakes her head and watches his adam apple bob as he swallows. “Would-would you tell me who it is if I asked?”

She nods jerkily. “O-oh. Well then,” he licks his lips nervously, “who—”

She doesn’t give him any time to finish his question. Ash has already moved her hands so they’re gripping the front of his shirt and dragging him down so she can place a fierce, hard kiss on his lips. It’s over almost as quickly as it started though, and she pulls back to stare at a dazed Chris, looking for all the world like he had just been clubbed over the head.

“You,” she manages to gasp out. “It’s you, you idiot. It’s always been you.”

Anything she could have said is lost, as that’s when Chris’s brain finally kicked in again and he responded by twisting his hand into her hair and pulling her into another kiss just a searing as the first. Ash doesn’t hesitate to wrap her arms around his neck to hold him closer as his free hand finds the center of her back and is now pushing her chest into his. She knows that he’s probably—definitely—making a mess of her hair, but when she starts whining into his mouth when the kiss deepens, she finds that she doesn’t give two flying fucks anymore.

The second kiss goes on for much, much longer then the first one. And the third longer than that, and on the forth she finds that they’ve shifted at some point so she’s 100% straddling his lap in her dress right now as they make out on the bench. By the fifth she doesn’t really care about that either. 

Eventually the two of them do manage to separate, and are pressing their foreheads together staring at the other in wide-eyed amazement. Ash giggles at the sight. The lipstick she had worn was now a mess all over Chris’s mouth, and she could already feel that her hair was an unsalvageable rat’s nest of hairspray and bobby pins. There is going to be no explaining this away. It’s pretty dang obvious what they had both been doing. She leaves a small kiss on the tip of his nose anyway, just because she can.

“You think that maybe your parent’s have started to worry about us? Think we should head back soon?”

Chris let’s out a low breathy laugh, his smile bright enough that if she wasn’t already flushed from their previous activities, she certainly would be now. “Honestly, Ash? I don’t give a shit about what everyone over there is doing right now.”

He leans in and gives her a much softer and more tender kiss then anything they had shared earlier. And as she sighs happily into it, she finds herself agreeing wholeheartedly. No matter what’s going on over there, she would much rather stay here with Chris. 

[lunatens]

aesthetic tag

tagged by @ggulovebot thaNK U MIMU ILYYYYY <33333

rules: bold the aesthetics you relate to and add 20 of your own aesthetic qualities for others to bold :)

[soft] baby pink | iridescent | glitter is always a good option | no bra | minimalistic tattoos | cherry patterns | sweet scented perfumes | wearing generous amounts of blush | doodling hearts | getting excited to pet an animal | fun nails | rewatching old barbie movies | hair sticking to glossed lips | heart shaped sunglasses | taking pictures of the sunset or sunrise | stuffed animals | protecting nature | stickers everywhere | teen movies | the light rain that falls from a clear sky at the beginning of the night

[dark academia] neutral tones | masculine outfits | studying languages | worn down copy of books | grey skies | turtleneck sweaters | loose fitting pants | hair tied with a silk ribbon | trying to remember a cool difficult word you read somewhere to use in a convo | thick belts | minimal makeup | windows fogged by rain | vintage jewelry | blouses with cuffed sleeves | reading a murder mystery and trying to solve it | oxford style shoes | sweater vests | subtitled old movies in a language you don’t speak | leaves crackling as you walk | annotating books to express your emotions about the story

[edgy] closet full of dark clothes | fishnet tights | makeup sweating off | neon signs | searching for unknown songs | chokers | band tees | doodling on old converses | finding smoking aesthetically pleasing but not doing it | weird humor | accidentally very dramatic | dim lights | layered outfits | chain belts | chipped nail polish | messy hair | low quality pics | piercings | combat boots | scribbling on desks

[seventies] colourful wardrobe | doodling flowers | wearing short shorts | using a bikini top or bra as a normal top | listening to ABBA | flowers in your hair | DIYing everything | jamming to songs alone in your room | drunkenly telling your friends you love them | patterned bandanas | mid heeled shoes | messy braids | flared sleeves | walking barefoot on grass or sand | bold sunglasses | the good kind of tired you get after doing something you enjoy for hours | feeding stray animals | fun patterned socks | room decorated with succulents and other plants | likes to go roller skating or skateboarding

[preppy casual] collared clothes | drinking juice out of a champagne glass | getting excited to see the met gala looks | thick headbands | small pastel cardigans | making your friends take your ootd pics | plaid mini skirts | tweed two pieces | watching reality tv to pass time | frilly tops | watching old hollywood movies | academically driven | long manicured nails | new year’s eve fireworks | colorful tights | layered golden jewelry | yearns for luxury brand items | decorating your room with fairy-lights | cursive and neat handwriting | lace details

[parfaitjoon] old book smell | doodles of eyes | stained paint palettes | jewel tones | sleepy eyes and red noses | always blushed cheeks | plushies with sentimental value | keroppi | ever-switching aesthetics | chunky trainers | curvy bodies | blurry vision | analysing movies | shouting when excited | green eye shadow | cool fresh water | tiny frogs | thirst for knowledge | random facts

[dreamiehrs] playing Roblox for 3 hours straight | loud laugh that could probably make someone deaf | listening to music 24/7 | hot chocolate on a chilly day | skirts galore | cat lady | has 2 fans on at all times | hibernates during the summer (not literally) | binge watching tons of anime episodes in one day | dark circles underneath their eyes | is on Tumblr 24/7 | loves buying merch | does online shopping in the middle of class | cannot go 1 day without screaming about their faves | having a dance party in their bathroom while getting ready for the day | has an obsession with buying tiny plants | lowkey never goes outside | wanting to write the day away | has millions of lists for every little thing | cannot stop doing the Chika dance

[yayhei] tarot cards | dark makeup done in the soft styles | eyeliner smears | wearing hoodies unzipped with just a bra | vans | always having bruises | never leaves the house | herbs | staying up staring at the ceiling just because you cant sleep and not doing anything | tons of posters that you have up more for the aesthetic than for the band | shit ton of candles | products that you never use | sleeping during classes | getting detention for tapping on your desk after being asked to stop multiple times

[pastelsicheng] watching sunsets on the roof | rainy days inside | overachieving student though they say they aren’t a try hard | oversized and loose clothes | not knowing your shoe size | cold feet | scrolling through pretty/aesthetic pictures for hours trying to get some serotonin | having several dream jobs | making dumb jokes when youre delirious and tired | worn out clothes | baking on cool/rainy days | sleepless nights | thoughtless showers | short attention spans | shaky legs and fidgeting hands | messy handwriting | scribbled notes | listening to music with earbuds in the dead of night while everyone is sleeping and you can’t | the sound of wind rustling through grass and flowers | drives through the countryside with only trees, cows, horses, and farm houses in sight

[ggulovebot] fruit flavoured alcohol | black glittery eyeshadow | everchanging coloured hair | opening a window when it rains | crisp cold mornings | daydreaming on train rides | longing for a new life in a different country | cups and cups of coffee | chunky black boots with thick heels | sweet essential oils | cringey motivational quotes | a bigass bowl of pasta on a cold day | crying out of nowhere | sweet and tangy candy | trips to disneyworld | old faded polaroid pictures | little black dresses | big gym shorts | staying focused on one task for hours nonstop | doodling interesting words and song lyrics | keeping everything that sparks a memory | gummy bears | laughing at everything when you're tired | caring too much | feeling the wind go through you | talking to plants | tabasco

[lunatens] orange juice 24/7 | swimming until you’re all wrinkly | lavender essential oil | procrastinating even for things you enjoy doing | late night drives | talking for hours under a cloudless night sky | reaching things on high shelves | sleeping in til the last possible minute | buying plants but never being able to keep them alive | ice cream and a walk by the river | pretty dungeons and dragons dice sets | listening to the waves and crickets on hot summer nights | mismatched socks and sandals | ancient latin | pointing out constellations and celestial objects | cherry chapstick | diy haircuts and colours | constantly lost in daydreams | smiling at strangers | brown sugar roasted milk tea with pearls

high key this was really fun and really cute uwu im gonna tag @cutiejoshi @citruscious @woozisnoots @hannie-dul-set @kwanisms @bruh-changbin only if u guys wanna!! pls lemme know if u don’t want me to tag u in stuff <3

[lightningenergy]

@lightningenergy and @codyscommandpost proudly present:

Operation Cloudburst, a Pokémon Fan-Fiction

Disclaimer: Pokémon is copyright its original owners. The authors only own the plot and original characters. Any representation of real persons, dead or alive, is purely coincidental unless it makes a damn good reference.

Shout-outs to my “little sister” @princessofhoenn for beta-reading this chapter! :)

Chapter 9 - “A Jewel in the Rough! The Gorgeous Oasis, Phenac City!”

Having applied a Revive and Hyper Potion to Wartortle, May withdrew it back into the safety of its Poké Ball. She should’ve put more thought into combatting that Tyranitar: she had surrendered herself into rage and her Pokémon suffered for it. Deep down May knew that Wartortle wouldn’t hold the loss against her — that just wasn’t its personality — but the burden of guilt was certainly going to gnaw away at her for days to come.

Her legs groaning their disapproval as she stood up, May brushed off as much dirt as she could. The cut on her forehead was still throbbing (she would have to get it bandaged), but other than that she wasn’t physically injured as terribly as she was emotionally. At least, she thought, it would be easier to conceal the latter than the former, which was a minute comfort.

Manya probably wouldn’t be pleased with me hiding that, May realized. The other girl offered a much-appreciated emotional outlet, of course… who, then, would comfort the comforter when it all became too much?

These thoughts drifted with the wind as May walked. Each step forward was an exhausting effort, yet she could not perceive the solid ground beneath her feet. Her brain automatically guided her towards the smoldering wreckage of the Snagem Hideout, and her body trudged along without complaint. The already bleak desert scenery blurred from view, becoming even more nondescript.

May subconsciously glanced up at the pillar of smoke wafting from the explosion sight. It had thinned somewhat, though its sooty color remained a blight against the mid-morning sky. Bits of rubble were gradually appearing along the landscape: shards of glass, metal beams twisted out of shape, singed and blackened chairs… May’s stomach shrunk at the thought of finding any disembodied limbs on the ground.

The debris thickened as May approached the hideout’s entrance, a synthetic maw that looked as though it had been hewn from the very canyon walls. Scorch marks stretched from the lone doorway from which the smoke was drifting, and the air burned with the bitter stench of explosives.

Manya was standing a few feet away from the doorway, directing her Solrock as it manipulated a girder with Psychic. The Meteorite Pokémon’s eyes shone a bright blue and the girder was lowered to the ground, which coughed up a fresh cloud of dust as the steel beam landed with a loud clunk.

Manya gave Solrock a gentle pat as it lowered down towards her level. “Good job, Solrock. You just let me know if you’re feeling overworked, okay?”

Solrock tilted forward in a nodding motion before turning back to clear the way. Manya’s dirt-stained face broke into a weary smile as May advancing towards her. “The shrimp and sleuth are inside,” she reported. “We found a few survivors, but they scampered off before we could do anything else.”

May nodded, her throat drying at the mention of “survivors”. There were some casualties after all… she unconsciously rubbed her eyes and felt her shoulders drop. People have died because of me. The thought sliced through her brain, shattering her confidence. I might as well have triggered the bomb…

Manya seemed to know what May was thinking, for she said, “Don’t go beating yourself over this. I know it’s frustrating but if you ask me I know this isn’t your fault. I think Abyss woulda blown this place up regardless if you were here or not.”

“I could have prevented this,” May mumbled, finding it easier to concentrate on her boots rather than Manya’s face. “I could’ve saved them…”

“How would you have known?” Manya asked, her voice firm yet unaggressive, hands on her hips. “You’re not a fortune teller, May… this was out of your control.”

May nodded again, though privately she reflected on their previous musings on approaching Snagem themselves and cursed herself for not taking charge yesterday. She was jolted out of this rumination by Manya placing a hand onto her shoulder, and suddenly found herself looking into her friend’s lilac eyes.

“Listen to me,” Manya said, her brow narrowed to the most minimal degree. “This. Was. Not. Your. Fault. You, me, Looker… even the brat… we’re human. We’re not omnipotent. Shit happens, y’know?”

May gazed into Manya’s eyes, simultaneously awed and ashamed of the faith Manya was displaying. She knew that Manya was right: they were only fifteen, and perhaps they would’ve been caught off-guard even if they were fifty. But the fact remained that people — even if they were bad guys — had lost their lives today.

May sighed and dropped her head onto Manya’s shoulder. She had been awake for not even three hours now but already wished to drift back into the dark void of sleep. I can’t let this get to me, she found herself thinking as Manya softly caressed her hair. I must keep going… I’ll make Abyss pay for this. I will stop them… even if I burn to cinders.

The holographic map caused her eyes to water but May refused to look away. She wanted to engrave the locales of Orre into every fold and crevice of her brain, an idea that sprouted from the desire to be worried over one less concern. Looker stood with her, having explained that he had been briefed on the geography for his mission. He had begun by pointing out where she had already been: Gateon Port on the western shore and jumping east before settling at their current location on the edge of Eclo Canyon.

“What’s this?” A city resting at the southern edge caught May’s attention. The icon on the Snag Machine’s map suggested the image of a secluded island or a wading pool, though she couldn’t imagine water existing in a remote area.

Looker followed her gaze. “That is Phenac City. It was, I believe, one of the first settlements in Orre: the city’s founder managed to draw water from underground.”

“Hm,” said May. The mention of water caused her mind to drift away into daydreams of lowering herself into a deep, wide pool. After enduring the searing heat, being able to swim in cooled water had become a far-off fantasy. The notion of running for Phenac City was incredibly tempting: it did lie directly south of the Libra, after all… but once she thought about it, beelining for Phenac just to refresh herself was an awfully greedy motive.

Manya and Smidge entered the Libra, both sweaty and sporting dark circles under their eyes. Smidge plopped straight down onto the ground, while Manya staggered over to drape an arm around May’s shoulder.

“We searched as best we could,” she reported, her voice sounding much more active than she looked. “But we couldn’t find anyone else… it looked like Abyss’ bomb was rather powerful, everything was either burned, melted, or outright broken. Ooh,” she said, catching sight of the map. “Are we going to Phenac?”

“If there’s good reason to,” May replied. She secretly hoped there was, if only to experience indoor plumbing again and get herself into a shower. “What do you know about it?”

“Well, it’s pretty lively, and rightly so with all the water they’ve got,” Manya explained. “And very low crime rates, too, especially lately…”

Smidge exhaled a noise of dissent through his nose but Manya pretended not to have heard as she continued. “Got themselves a Gym or something, too.”

“I am of the opinion that we should not be attempting to earn Badges,” said Looker plainly. “Instead, my thought is that Phenac’s lack of villainy should provide an opportunity to rejoin civilization and gather information.”

“If they’ll let us clean up, I’m all for it,” May said, deciding that she couldn’t hide her motivation anymore. She tapped the Snag Machine’s screen and the map flickered away. “Manya, if you’re up for taking us there —”

Manya was already preparing Miss Birdie for the trip. “It’ll be a tight fit, but you should all be able to ride aboard easily enough.” She flashed a sinister grin over at Smidge. “Feel free to toss the shrimp overboard to stretch your legs.”

“I’ll stretch that big mouth o’ yours, blondie, if you keep draggin’ me.”

“Be glad it’s only verbally for now.”

“Knock it off, guys,” May cut in flatly. As awkward as the thought was, she couldn’t help but reflect on how much Manya and Smidge’s taunting reminded her of Ash and Misty. She spent most of the trip south wondering if anything ever happened between her two friends, and if not, how she could assist them along the way.

The sound of rushing water greeted them after Manya shut off her motorbike’s engine. Tan walls curved around the city, however, perhaps to shield travelers from the sunlight reflecting off the water as they approached. True to Manya’s description, several people were making their way either to or from Phenac through the wide archways carved through the walls. May inhaled and could practically taste the water on the roof of her mouth. The sensation was surprising, though gratefully received.

Lush fronds of palm trees swayed in the moisture-carrying breeze, and May couldn’t help but imagine that the temperature had dropped several degrees once they had entered Phenac’s boundaries. A large fountain churned water about in the main plaza, in front of which stood a tall man in a suit conversing with a smaller man with a bow tie.

“… really think this could work,” the suited man was saying, his voice growing clearer as May and her group walked by. “I’m fully prepared to fund as much as necessary.”

“That’s very generous, Your Honor,” the second man answered. His reedy voice nonetheless reflected the gratitude he was experiencing. “I’ll draw up plans immediately…”

May focused on the city boundary again. She had only just noticed the water flowing atop the wall like an aqueduct. She was wondering what practical use that had when the tall man’s voice shattered her imagination.

“Welcome to Phenac!” he said, looking around at them. His neatly-trimmed beard shifted as he smiled and pushed up his horn-rimmed glasses slightly. He extended out a hand. “I’m Mayor Trest.”

They each gripped his hand in turn, and May found herself wondering about the genuineness of the warmth in Trest’s eyes. Fate would be a cruel bitch indeed if he turned out to be evil all along. Her sight flickered over to the second man, who adjusted his bowtie before staring around at them all.

“Oh, pardon me,” Trest had noticed May’s line of sight and gestured over to his companion. “This brilliant young man is Caecus. He’s brought up a wonderful proposal… would you like to explain?”

Caecus nodded and cleared his throat. His thin, light hair fluttered about in the dry breeze that swept by. “Phenac’s experienced tremendous success thanks to its waterway system. I believe it is imperative that other areas in Orre should construct the same.”

“Bringing water to a desert? Whoda thought? Ouch!” Smidge’s sarcastic comment was reprimanded by Manya putting him into a chokehold.

“That sounds wonderful,” Manya told Caecus, ignoring Smidge’s efforts to pry himself free from her grip. “I hope it works out!”

“I have an inquiry,” added Looker. “My current understanding is such that dropping large quantities of water in an arid environment introduces catastrophic results.”

May, Manya, and Smidge all stared at Looker in minor disbelief, though Caecus beamed. “Indeed!” he said, delighted. “Desert soil can’t absorb all that moisture at once, you see; disastrous flooding occurs. Instead, we shall be taking the cautious route and gradually introduce water. In this way, we can minimize the negative effects.”

Looker nodded satisfactorily. “His Honor has selected the appropriate man for the occupation.”

“They sound alike, don’t they?” May whispered to Manya, who smiled.

“Phanec’s the first city in Orre to implement Caecus’ blueprint.” Trest interjected, clapping a hand on the scientist’s shoulder. “The hope is for other areas to follow suit once they realize how successful this shall become.”

“Fair warning, Your Honor,” Caecus said with the barest hint of a smile. “This is still rather experimental… I’d rather not have my funding revoked should something happen…”

“Come now, my good man,” Trest grinned broadly and thumped Caecus on the back. “You can’t walk through life without stumbling a few times!”

May ruminated on that remark. Perhaps, despite even all her concern and anxiety, she had been attacking this issue too hastily. Yes, she was exercising caution (much to Smidge’s displeasure), but what if that hesitation was born from desiring perfection? Had she really been expecting everything to resolve without a problem lurking behind every corner? A scene of Max throwing a tantrum over a school assignment flashed in her mind’s eye, and May was forced to admit that she inherited something from her father after all.

“On that note,” continued Trest, and May looked up to see him gazing around at them. “It looks like you’ve been stumbling around quite a bit.”

May found herself agreeing. After all the traveling, Manya, Smidge, and Looker were all covered with dust and sand. She knew she couldn’t be much better: her gloves were no longer pristinely white, and her stockings bore rips and tears. While Manya did bandage the cut on her forehead, they had forgotten to clean off the blood around the wound.

“My dearest apologizes, Your Honor,” stammered Looker as he frantically began to brush off his coat. “We have not established plumbing at our, ah, main location…”

“That just won’t do.” Trest shook his head before smiling. “Well, I was already going to invite Caecus over for lunch, but I’d like the extend the invitation to you as well! As well as use of my shower, as needed.”

“If this guy turns out to be evil I’m gonna hate myself,” May muttered to Manya before speaking to Trest. “That would be wonderful, thank you.”

Trest smiled around them all and gestured towards a house on the city’s upper level. Caecus led the way, with May’s group following and Trest at their heels. The sun beat down upon them, evaporating the cool water into the air into a pleasant sort of humidity. Caecus held open the door and they filed in. An air conditioner was running somewhere in the house: the chill was discomforting but preferable to the heat outside.

Smidge plopped down on a couch, edging away from Looker as the agent took the spot next to him. Caecus sat in an armchair, shifting uncomfortably as though the sudden company had unnerved him. Manya and May sat on the floor: the former upright supported by her arms, the latter lying flat on her stomach. Even the scratchy carpet felt cold and relaxing.

“Bless my wife, she made extras.” chortled Trent as he reentered the living room. “I’m glad to see you’ve all made yourselves comfortable. Miss May, is it?”

May turned over onto her back, staring at him. Her heart jumped: as far as she was aware, no one had brought up her name within Trest’s vicinity. Had she been right and led them into a trap?

Trest noticed her confusion and clarified, “I keep in touch with Lily and Professor Krane. Phenac was conquered a few years ago by some hooligans, so I thought it best to keep the brightest and noblest minds in Orre at my side.”

May nodded weakly and reversed onto her stomach again, which was now squirming. Sweat trickled down her arms and she wondered if that was from the heat or the sudden dose of panic and shock.

“Anyways,” Trest continued. “My wife suggested that I allow you to clean up, which I’m sure you’d like. Our bathroom’s upstairs on the left.”

May nodded again. A shower would certainly revitalize her, but laziness had come to the fore. Any motivation was entirely drained, and she felt perfectly content to just close her eyes and drift away into bliss. Yet a meal loomed, and May was never one to avoid food… Screw it, she thought. Food first, shower and coma later.

Trest’s wife’s area of cooking expertise turned out to be comfort food. The dining room table was laden with thick, hearty dishes. Powerful yet soothing aromas wafted throughout the house, quickly luring May into a chair.

She spent all of dinner eating rather than talking, piling her plate with triple servings of mashed potatoes, bread rolls, and a very filling macaroni-and-cheese casserole. The others’ conversations drifted over her head, and she resolutely ignored Smidge’s snide comments about her eating habits.

Looker offered to assist with the dishes, so May trudged upstairs to the guest room. There wasn’t a part of her body that didn’t feel weighed down: her stomach with food, her brain with worry, and her eyes with exhaustion. She dropped her bag and shoes to the floor before collapsing onto the only bed in the room, everything instantly melting away into blissful sleep.

Her eyes snapped open hours later. The small alarm clock on the nightstand flashed the time: a little after three in the morning. Something shuffled next to her, and May looked to see Manya curled up under the blankets, her chest rising and falling with each breath. Quietly and gently, May slid off the mattress.

The house was utterly silent and colored inky-gray. Taking care not to step on any creaky floorboards, May snuck downstairs and sat herself in front of the video phone in the living room. She picked up the receiver and began to dial, hoping that Hoenn and Orre didn’t share time zones.

Her call was answered on the third ring, and the screen burst to life, revealing May’s mother Caroline on the other end. “Well, hello, May! This is a surprise!”

May would probably never admit it, but the sight of her mother’s smiling face brought forth a surge of relief. “Hey, mom. Hope I didn’t catch you a bad time.”

“Oh, not at all!” Caroline assured her. “I was just having my coffee when I heard the phone ring.”

May nodded, eyes flickering to the sunlight drifting through the window behind Caroline. “That’s good. It’s early morning here, and I didn’t know…” her voice trailed off and she had to shake herself clear. “Anyways, I thought I’d say hello.”

“That’s very sweet, dear,” smiled Caroline before sipping her coffee. “Norman told me you had another big adventure waiting. I told him that you’re practically a grown woman by now and this shouldn’t be a surprise!”

May smiled and nodded, making a mental note to never disclose this excursion to her mother. “Yeah, something just came up, that’s all. It’s not like I was running away from you guys or anything.”

Caroline was staring back at her with a curious expression on her face. “May, dear,” she said, her voice thick with motherly concern. “Are you doing alright?”

“I —”

Her mother’s question had caught her off-guard. She thought she concealed her mood well enough, but just enough had slipped through the cracks for Caroline to notice. May turned away from the monitor, as loud of an admission of guilt as her speaking aloud.

“I’m just hitting a few road blocks,” May continued. Ones that continually try to murder me, she added mentally. “So I’ve been a little discouraged…”

If Caroline believed this answer unsatisfactory, she didn’t say so. Instead she set down her mug and gripped the receiver with both hands. “May, I’m going to tell you something your grandfather once told me: if you’re running into enemies, you’re headed in the right direction.”

May stared at her mother’s face and said nothing.

“I know that everyone — especially Trainers — can find themselves in difficult situations. But you’re my daughter, and I know that you aren’t someone to let that stop you. I mean, when you started your journey five years ago you only wanted to travel, and now you’re a celebrated Coordinator!”

May rubbed the tears out of her eyes, trying to play it off as a yawn. “Thanks, mom. I know you’d root for me.”

“Forever and always,” Caroline beamed. “Don’t let anyone stop you, honey. You’ve got the passion and drive to bowl over anyone who stands in your way!”

May nodded again, but with sincerity behind the gesture. Caroline’s words had improved her spirit somewhat, and her chest burned with determination to return to Petalburg in one piece. “You know it, mom. I’m gonna get back to sleep…”

“Rest up, dear. A rested woman’s a beautiful woman!”

May waved as the screen turned off before hanging up the receiver. A remarkable sense of calm washed over her as she ascended the stairs. She had to hand it to her mother: she knew just the right things to say without knowing all the details (not that May would’ve told her).

May climbed back into bed without disturbing Manya. After settling into a comfortable position, she closed her eyes and allowed the gentle rhythm of her friend’s breathing to lull her back to sleep.

Trest’s wife whipped up another generously large meal for breakfast. Once again May neglected conversation, directing her attention towards numerous helpings of pancakes, scrambled eggs, sausages, toast, and juice. A ceiling fan whirled overhead, cooling the six people around the table from Orre’s harsh morning sunlight.

Trest’s eyes were lowered upon the daily newspaper while his wife nudged him every so often as a reminder to eat the food sitting on his plate. Manya, sitting beside May, drizzled syrup on her fifteen-high pancake stack. Looker and Smidge, meanwhile, dissolved into an argument over the boy not drinking a glass of milk.

“I ain’t drinkin’ nothing that came from a cow!” Smidge growled, eyes blazing with dislike.

“Miltank milk is highly nutritious!” Looker countered. He picked up the glass bottle from the table and held it in front of Smidge’s face. “With a luxurious, creamy taste that leaves you satisfied –”

“Shove off, ya old fart! It’s gross and nothin’ will get me ta drink it!”

May shook her head as she took another bite of toast. She possessed little intention to intervene and was in fact rather grateful for Looker attempting to order Smidge around.

“Any more, dear?” Trest’s wife inquired as May drained her glass.

“No, thank you,” she replied with a thin smile. “But it was all delicious.” She stacked up her empty dishes and set them in the sink. “I, er… hope I didn’t eat too much.”

“With how little my husband tends to eat, I welcome the change.” Trest’s wife simpered, nudging Trest playfully with her elbow.

May went upstairs, slipped on her boots and bag, and stepped out of the house. Ignoring the bombardment of eighty-degree heat, she began making her way towards the center of town. Hardly anyone else was out, aside from a jogger being chased by his Castform. Though given this heat I’m not surprised.

She continued walking until she reached a plain, rounded building. It caught her eye yesterday but there hadn’t been an opportunity to visit until now. Nothing about the building stood out aside from carvings above the entrance that read “Prestige Precept Center”. How curious that a region without a Pokémon League would have something very much resembling a Gym…

May gazed at the writing for a while until a voice spoke, causing her to jump.

“I was curious as to where you had disappeared.” Looker frowned concernedly down at her, arms folded.

“I’m not running off, if that’s what you mean,” May replied evenly.

Looker shook his head. “From what your magical companion was revealed to me, you have accomplished a great of deal of things. Dashing away would not cohere to that.”

“I just said I’m not.” May spun on her heel before Looker could answer, stepped up to the PreGym door, and pulled it open.

Cold air rushed onto her face as she looked around. The building was a single room, with a battlefield taking up most of the space in the center. A chalkboard, a table, and some chairs stood to the left; on the right sat a large half-circle control panel. Other than herself and Looker (following her inside), May noticed that no one seemed to be around.

A mechanical grinding noise caught her attention: turning towards the source May spotted an elevator against the back wall. The doors slid open and a young man stepped out. His sharp face and just-unkept-enough fuchsia hair made him resemble a hypothetical older brother of May’s Contest rival, Drew.

“Hello there!” he called as he started walking across the room. “Welcome to my Pre Gym!”

“This is a Gym…?” May found herself asking aloud.

“Pre Gym,” the young man pressed with a smile. “Not that Orre has any actual Gyms… oh, excuse me! Where are my manners? I’m Justy, and I run this place. Are you interested in a battle…?”

The uncomfortable memory of her last battle jumped past May’s eyes. “Er… maybe,” she answered, hoping her stomach’s aching wasn’t discernable in her voice. “I was just curious about this place…”

Justy’s smile remained undeterred. “You’re not imposing or anything! You took the effort to poke your head in, so why not? After all, battling is a good way to learn about one another!”

His insistent enthusiasm was a disconcerting similarity to Ash and Brendan. May rubbed her forehead in attempt to dispel the twinge of pain that had surfaced. Part of her did want to accept the challenge, to vent her frustrations; the other half looked to withdraw and shut herself away.

“I request your pardon,” said Looker after sparing a glance at May. “But I am thinking that your challenge shall have to be postponed —”

“I accept.” May interjected.

Justy beamed and motioned for May to follow him up to the arena. Looker stared at her with wide eyes and raised eyebrows, which only fueled her irritation.

“I don’t need you speaking for me,” she grunted, and stomped onto the battlefield without waiting for a response. She was old enough to do as she pleased, thank you very much, frustrations and anxiety be damned. What did Looker know, anyways? He didn’t seem to use — or own, for that matter — any Pokémon himself…

“We prefer Double Battles here in Orre,” Justy told May from across the battlefield. “Is that alright with you?”

May almost shrugged but decided it was politer to nod. Justy returned the gesture and revealed his Pokémon first: a spiny Sandslash and a prickly Cacnea. After brief deliberation, May sent out Blaziken and Venusaur. It might have appeared like overkill, but she wasn’t going to lose another match if she could help it.

Blaziken rushed towards Sandslash, which fired off an array of star-shaped projectiles in response. Blaziken swerved away into Cacnea, countering the Cactus Pokémon’s attempted Needle Arm with Fire Punch. The dodged Swift attack flew towards Venusaur: a powerful stream of Razor Leaf nullified the attack. May expected the Grass move to hit Sandslash, but it had burrowed under the arena.

Cacnea tumbled along the ground from Blaziken’s punch before righting itself. It took aim at its attacker, launching small seeds from its arm. May recognized the Leech Seed and had Blaziken leap away. Unfortunately, Sandslash chose that moment to spring out and collide into Blaziken, its spines digging into the Blaze Pokémon’s back. Venusaur quickly ensnared its partner with vines, yanking it away to safety.

“You’ve got some good Pokémon there!” complimented Justy. “Looks like we can’t let our guard down!”

May allowed herself a small smile. She might not accept praise towards herself now, but commendation towards her Pokémon was certainly welcome. Emerging victorious from this battle (as non-threatening as it was) would do wonders for her self-esteem. Though something about Justy’s Pokémon choices made her suspicious: she had a nagging feeling that they shared some sort of attribute that would be troublesome.

She was, to her displeasure, correct. Sandslash whipped up a sandstorm, obstructing itself and Cacnea from view. May swore under her breath: Tyranitar had given her enough trouble with this strategy. It certainly wasn’t much easier now, given both Sandslash and Cacnea had an Ability called Sand Veil, increasing their evasiveness during a sandstorm.

For a moment May berated herself for not having Skitty on hand. A Blizzard attack might have the power to disperse the swirling sand… not that Skitty would have any better luck against Tyranitar as Wartortle did. If Justy’s Pokémon attacked up-close, she could play the advantage of her Pokémon’s superior power by retaliating at the right moment.

Unless Justy played it cautiously and kept his distance, which he seemed to be doing. Blaziken and Venusaur backed into each other, wary of when and where their opponents would appear. Venusaur’s petals fluttered in the sand, and an idea came to her. She wouldn’t pull it off just yet: she’d save it for the climax.

Sandslash erupted from the ground underneath Blaziken, knocking it back. Sandslash raised its claws, which glinted in the Pre Gym’s florescent lighting. Blaziken recovered quickly to interrupt the Crush Claw with Flamethrower, utilizing Venusaur’s bulk to brace against the attack’s thrust. The Seed Pokémon, meanwhile, battered away Cacnea’s Pin Missile with a flurry of vine tethers.

May’s temper suddenly flared without explanation. The battle was only a few minutes in, yet the urge to demolish her opponent consumed her. Some part of her brain told her that a demonstration of overwhelming power would prove herself: not only to Justy but to Looker and Smidge as well. She had entered two Grand Festivals after all, so her skills and ability weren’t to be mocked.

Patience, May told herself. Patience… I know my plan will work… Perhaps overconfidence had gotten the better of her yesterday. Being self-assured was fine, but a swollen head prevented clear thinking. With that in mind, she thought hard and added some contingencies to her plan, just in case.

Sandslash and Cacnea retreated into the billowing sand again. Justy’s vigilance was admirable, she thought, motioning for Blaziken to crouch behind Venusaur. He may have summoned the sandstorm, but she could take advantage of it, too. “Go for it, Venusaur.”

Venusaur lazily swayed to and fro, a sweet, mellow scent emanating from its massive flower. Visible as a thin, pink mist, the aroma merged with the sandstorm and drifted throughout the arena. Infatuated with the intoxicating odor, Sandslash and Cacnea re-emerged from their cover.

Quick as a flash, Venusaur ensnared them both with Vine Whip. The opposing Pokémon barely struggled: the Sweet Scent commanded all of their attention. At May’s signal, Blaziken leapt up, its leg alight in flames. Venusaur held their foes close together, allowing Blaziken to descend and clobber both with twin Blaze Kicks. Cacnea succumbed instantly, so Venusaur released it unceremoniously onto the floor. Sandslash still had a bit of HP left, though that was rectified with Venusaur tossing it against the closest wall.

“Holy cow!” said Justy amidst nervous laughter. The sandstorm dissolved into nothingness, the battle having ended. “You’re a clever one!”

May suppressed a smile. “I apologize,” she said, unconsciously rubbing her upper arm. “I think we were too aggressive there.”

“It’s alright.” Justy recalled his Pokémon. “I had a lot of fun, and I’d be ashamed if you were holding back on me!”

His cheerfulness remained marginally unnerving. “Thanks,” she mumbled. She returned Blaziken and Venusaur to their Poké Balls before stepping out of the arena, taking care not to meet Justy’s beaming expression. Looker was still frowning at her, which she ignored. Her current mood aside, the battle helped lift her confidence as predicted. Practice made perfect, as people said… the prospect of losing against Abyss again wasn’t appealing, but she shouldn’t be so hard on herself… everyone loses battles sometimes…

May finally looked towards Justy. “Thanks for the battle. Sorry if I seem distant, I’ve had a lot going on…”

Justy didn’t have a chance to respond: the Pre Gym doors slammed open without warning. Everyone whipped around as Manya came running in.

“Here you are!” she gasped. Her eyes were wide, and her hand shook as she steadied herself against May’s shoulder. “Geez, couldn’t have… left a note…”

“What’s going on?” May asked sharply. Something about Manya’s tone got her heart pounding furiously, and she braced herself as best she could for what was coming.

“Trest… the Mayor just got a phone call…” Manya told her. She must’ve ran all the way over here: aside from her voice breaking, her face was flushed and covered in sweat. “Lily… the HQ Lab…”

“What?” urged May. “What happened?”

Manya took a deep breath and raised her head. Amethyst stared into sapphire, and everything froze as Manya continued: “Abyss. They… they’re attacking the HQ Lab.”

To be continued...

[talesofawaywardsoul]

Rooted

Time for another writing prompt provided by a friend. I kind of went slightly off with this one. I think it really would do better as a longer story but I’m trying to practice writing short story and get my point across in fewer words. Hopefully you enjoy!

Writing Prompt: “When he said he had roots, I just assumed he was speaking metaphorically.” 

I leaned back in my office chair and stretched my arms above my head, the bones in my elbows cracking. The sound was a constant reminder that I needed to start getting up more often to stretch during work. I stared up at the ceiling and nearly fell backwards out of the chair. 

A spider hung from the ceiling inches from my face. I slowly slid out of the chair, until I was all the way on the floor. I then crawled to the door and ran to my room where I kept a can of bug spray. I grabbed it and snuck back to the office, peering around the corner. I squinted my eyes looking for the small speck.

“Where did you go, you little fucker?” 

I inched closer searching the ceiling and the air between it and the chair. It had to be there, somewhere. 

“Oh shit.” I nearly tripped backwards when I finally found it swinging straight for me. In what seemed like slow motion but was more like two seconds I brought the can up and wasted nearly half of it trying to kill the damn spider. 

“Guess I’ll be adding bug spray to the grocery list.”

Once I was sure it was dead and had cleaned up the chair, wall and desk of bug spray I headed downstairs and threw some chicken nuggets in the microwave for dinner, no longer feeling up to cooking anything. Once they were done I plopped onto my couch and turned the TV on and pulled out my phone. 

Only two minutes into mindless scrolling and a friends post caught my attention. A meme listing the top five reasons they keep a boyfriend around. One of the five things was to kill spiders.

“Who needs a boyfriend for that, I managed just fine on my own.”

I closed Facebook, annoyed with most of what I was seeing. Mid summer really brought out the crazies. I flipped through the pages on my phone looking for a different app to open and landed on the last page where I kept the apps I barely used. And there at the bottom, completely forgotten was Tinder. 

I stared at it for a long time. Its little white flame and pink border taunting me. I hadn’t been on in weeks. The conversations were always so pointless, shallow, one minded or just boring. I found myself opening it anyway and began mindlessly swiping left on shirtless pics and bikini shots.

It was like I had never stopped. It was so easy, constantly swiping left. Occasionally I would pull up someone's profile when a pic showed something of interest. Usually a geeky t-shirt, brightly colored hair or the scenery would make me pause and read their bio. But even then I rarely swiped right. I really didn’t like Tinder at all, it was just the easiest app to use. Not over complicated or time consuming and honestly sometimes an ego boost. But overall I hate trying to connect with someone online but I’m too antisocial to get out. The woes of being me.

My thumb suddenly paused, almost as if it had a mind of its own. It hovered over a picture of grass. It was zoomed in, showing the fine hairs of the grass blades. Dew drops hung on each blade, the sky mirrored on their surface. I touched the picture and began flipping through the rest. They were all scenic nature pictures. 

“Must be a photographer.” 

I rarely swipe right if there isn’t a picture of the person, partially because even I have a shallow bone in my body but also because those usually turn out to be fake profiles. They also only had a letter for their name, M. But still there was something different about them, the pictures were so peaceful and welcoming. Their bio was simple. 

Looking to find a connection. Someone who paints with all the colors of the wind. I’m a solitary person who likes to be in nature. My roots go deep and I have never left the solace of my sanctuary but I want to share the knowledge I have gained over the years with someone worthy. 

I’m not much of a nature person. I think my brutal slaying by bug spray drowning of the aforementioned spider probably clued you in. I think nature is beautiful and breathtaking but I don’t do bugs or dirt. But I found myself liking their profile anyway. The combination of the bio which stated just enough of who they were and the gorgeous pictures convinced me. 

My favorite was the picture of an Ash tree. It stood in the middle of a field, a forest set far back behind it and a small tire swing hanging from one of its mighty branches. It looked so lonely but inviting. As if to say even in its sadness it wanted to welcome others. I swiped right.

Barely a minute later a notification popped up on my phone. I had a new message. 

I love your picture in the sunflowers. Sunflowers are a sign of good luck. 

Yeah, they make me smile. Even when I’m sad. 

There are many legends about sunflowers, the Greek myth is a great story.

Yes, I love Greek mythology. Always wanted to read mythology from other cultures though. I feel like Greek mythology is the most widely known while others you don’t see as often. I’ve often wanted to read more on Native American folklore and mythology.

Really, I would highly recommend it. I could give you some book recommendations.

I would love that.

We talked well into the night. I never thought it was possible to connect to someone and carry on a conversation through a phone like we were doing and so quickly. They were full of so much knowledge, something I hadn’t seen in someone in a long time. Everything they said was carefully thought out and obviously researched. Who had so much time on their hands? Weeks went by and I found myself picking up my phone in mere seconds every time I got a notification hoping it was from them.

Honestly, I’m not a huge fan of most bugs either. There are many that can be damaging to trees. However dirt has never been a problem for me.

Well it’s not that I hate dirt, I just don’t like being dirty without having a way to clean up and if you’re out in nature for an extended period of time, kind of hard to clean up.

True. That is why I welcome a rain storm.

Yes I love the rain, even the heaviest of rain seems peaceful to me. 

Yes and it brings life and nourishment to many. 

Did that big storm reach you? One of the houses on my street had a tree get blown over.

Thankfully no downed branches, I don’t think I could take another beating like the last storm we had. It’s hard on the joints. Just rain for me.

I like big thunderstorms but I can understand it’s not for everyone. Hey so I’m curious, what’s your like, feelings on meeting people on here. 

Well I’d have to say I enjoy it, that’s why I’m on here. Although I must admit your company is really the only one that I have enjoyed. 

I blushed.

I’ve really been enjoying talking to you as well. What I was trying to say though was how do you feel about meeting in person. 

Oh, well I don’t really, I mean to say I can’t. 

I noticed on your profile that you live in a pretty secluded area. Although you’re not too far from the city I live in. Is it a transportation issue?

No I can’t leave my home, my roots are here. 

I get it. I always say I’m gonna travel the world but honestly I’m too afraid to leave my home state. 

I want to travel. I just can’t. 

Why not? I know we haven’t been talking long but we could pick somewhere public if that makes you feel more comfortable. 

I waited for a response but none came. I went through the rest of my day jumping every time my phone dinged. I didn’t know why I was so on edge. We had only been talking for a few weeks. We didn’t really know each other. I didn’t even know what they looked like. So what if they chose to ignore me after a simple question. 

Maybe I asked to soon. I had actually never gotten this far with someone. Any conversation I’d had so far lasted a day, two tops. When did people normally try to meet. I had a few guys try to push meeting up when we’d only been talking for like 15 minutes but I doubted that was normal. 

Five days went by and I hadn’t heard anything. I tried to forget about it. Poured myself into work, and even started exercising to keep my mind off it. I tried going back on Tinder to find someone new to talk to but after the first conversation ended with a rather rude and insensitive remark because I didn’t catch his hints, I decided it was time to delete the app. I started searching through the settings looking for the option to delete when I saw a notification pop up. 

“If it's that asshole, I swear I’m throwing my phone out the window.”

I pulled up my messages and was surprised to see a new message from M. I paused unsure whether to click on it. Did I want to go down that road again? What if they were just upset and messaging me to tell me why. 

“Get over yourself, It’s nothing, just open it.”

I did. 

Today at 5pm. The Ash tree.

A second message was an address to a farm outside of the city. I leaned back in my chair. That wasn’t what I had been expecting at all. A meet up, it’s what I had wanted but it was out of the blue and so cryptic. 

“You’re not really considering this.” I looked back down at my phone. “No of course not.”

I set it screen down. I went into the kitchen and pulled out a pint of ice cream. I grabbed a spoon and began walking aimlessly back and forth eating. I passed my phone, two, three, four times. I paused the spoon hanging from my mouth as I stared at my phone. Finally I put the ice cream down and grabbed my phone. 

I’ll be there. 

I threw my phone on my couch as soon as I sent the response. I immediately regretted it. Why had I agreed to meet this person? I didn’t know who they were or really anything about them. This was dangerous, I can’t go through with it. I grabbed my phone ready to cancel when another thought crossed my mind. I went into my contacts and selected my sister. 

“Hey I need a favor.”

My sister’s car pulled up the long driveway to the old farmhouse. No one had lived in the house for a year. The owner of the property used to rent it out but after the last tenant moved out he hadn’t found anyone new. 

“Are you sure about this?”

“Yes, the Ash tree is right around back and I’ll keep my phone in my hand the whole time. If I don’t text you in five minutes come find me.”

“You sure you don’t want me to walk back there with you.”

“Yes, I have mace. Don’t worry.” I stepped out of the car. My phone clutched in one hand, my other hand in my pocket wrapped around my mace. 

Once I was in view of the ash tree, my face fell. I didn’t see anyone. I drew closer, gripping the mace in my pocket harder. 

“Why did I come out here. This was stupid.” I turned to leave when I heard my phone ding. I took a look and saw a message on Tinder.

Thank you for coming.

Where are you? Is this some sort of joke?

I’m here. Right in front of you.

“Right in front of me, all I see is a tree.”

I don’t have time for this. I don’t know how you get off playing games like this on someone but... 

Before I could finish typing my eye caught something. I got closer to the tree and placed my hand on a carving in it’s trunk.

“Meliae.” I looked at the tree again, remembering what it was, an ash tree. 

“You’re a wood nymph.”

[hannie-dul-set]

aesthetic tag

tagged by: @lunatens luna tysm for tagging me!! :D i love doing these things hehe

rules: bold the aesthetics you relate to and add 20 of your own aesthetic qualities for others to bold :)

[soft] baby pink | iridescent | glitter is always a good option | no bra | minimalistic tattoos | cherry patterns | sweet scented perfumes | wearing generous amounts of blush | doodling hearts | getting excited to pet an animal | fun nails | rewatching old barbie movies | hair sticking to glossed lips | heart shaped sunglasses | taking pictures of the sunset or sunrise | stuffed animals | protecting nature | stickers everywhere | teen movies | the light rain that falls from a clear sky at the beginning of the night

[dark academia] neutral tones | masculine outfits | studying languages | worn down copy of books | grey skies | turtleneck sweaters | loose fitting pants | hair tied with a silk ribbon | trying to remember a cool difficult word you read somewhere to use in a convo | thick belts | minimal makeup | windows fogged by rain | vintage jewelry | blouses with cuffed sleeves | reading a murder mystery and trying to solve it | oxford style shoes | sweater vests | subtitled old movies in a language you don’t speak | leaves crackling as you walk | annotating books to express your emotions about the story

[edgy] closet full of dark clothes | fishnet tights | makeup sweating off | neon signs | searching for unknown songs | chokers | band tees | doodling on old converses | finding smoking aesthetically pleasing but not doing it | weird humor | accidentally very dramatic | dim lights | layered outfits | chain belts | chipped nail polish | messy hair | low quality pics | piercings | combat boots | scribbling on desks

[seventies] colourful wardrobe | doodling flowers | wearing short shorts | using a bikini top or bra as a normal top | listening to ABBA | flowers in your hair | DIYing everything | jamming to songs alone in your room | drunkenly telling your friends you love them | patterned bandanas | mid heeled shoes | messy braids | flared sleeves | walking barefoot on grass or sand | bold sunglasses | the good kind of tired you get after doing something you enjoy for hours | feeding stray animals | fun patterned socks | room decorated with succulents and other plants | likes to go roller skating or skateboarding

[preppy casual] collared clothes | drinking juice out of a champagne glass | getting excited to see the met gala looks | thick headbands | small pastel cardigans | making your friends take your ootd pics | plaid mini skirts | tweed two pieces | watching reality tv to pass time | frilly tops | watching old hollywood movies | academically driven | long manicured nails | new year’s eve fireworks | colorful tights | layered golden jewelry | yearns for luxury brand items | decorating your room with fairy-lights | cursive and neat handwriting | lace details

[parfaitjoon] old book smell | doodles of eyes | stained paint palettes | jewel tones | sleepy eyes and red noses | always blushed cheeks | plushies with sentimental value | keroppi | ever-switching aesthetics | chunky trainers | curvy bodies | blurry vision | analysing movies | shouting when excited | green eye shadow | cool fresh water | tiny frogs | thirst for knowledge | random facts

[dreamiehrs] playing Roblox for 3 hours straight | loud laugh that could probably make someone deaf | listening to music 24/7 | hot chocolate on a chilly day | skirts galore | cat lady | has 2 fans on at all times | hibernates during the summer (not literally) | binge watching tons of anime episodes in one day | dark circles underneath their eyes | is on Tumblr 24/7 | loves buying merch | does online shopping in the middle of class | cannot go 1 day without screaming about their faves | having a dance party in their bathroom while getting ready for the day | has an obsession with buying tiny plants | lowkey never goes outside | wanting to write the day away | has millions of lists for every little thing | cannot stop doing the Chika dance

[yayhei] tarot cards | dark makeup done in the soft styles | eyeliner smears | wearing hoodies unzipped with just a bra | vans | always having bruises | never leaves the house | herbs | staying up staring at the ceiling just because you cant sleep and not doing anything | tons of posters that you have up more for the aesthetic than for the band | shit ton of candles | products that you never use | sleeping during classes | getting detention for tapping on your desk after being asked to stop multiple times

[pastelsicheng] watching sunsets on the roof | rainy days inside | overachieving student though they say they aren’t a try hard | oversized and loose clothes | not knowing your shoe size | cold feet | scrolling through pretty/aesthetic pictures for hours trying to get some serotonin | having several dream jobs | making dumb jokes when youre delirious and tired | worn out clothes | baking on cool/rainy days | sleepless nights | thoughtless showers | short attention spans | shaky legs and fidgeting hands | messy handwriting | scribbled notes | listening to music with earbuds in the dead of night while everyone is sleeping and you can’t | the sound of wind rustling through grass and flowers | drives through the countryside with only trees, cows, horses, and farm houses in sight

[ggulovebot] fruit flavoured alcohol | black glittery eyeshadow | everchanging coloured hair | opening a window when it rains | crisp cold mornings | daydreaming on train rides | longing for a new life in a different country | cups and cups of coffee | chunky black boots with thick heels | sweet essential oils | cringey motivational quotes | a bigass bowl of pasta on a cold day | crying out of nowhere | sweet and tangy candy | trips to disneyworld | old faded polaroid pictures | little black dresses | big gym shorts | staying focused on one task for hours nonstop | doodling interesting words and song lyrics | keeping everything that sparks a memory | gummy bears | laughing at everything when you’re tired | caring too much | feeling the wind go through you | talking to plants | tabasco

[lunatens] orange juice 24/7 | swimming until you’re all wrinkly | lavender essential oil | procrastinating even for things you enjoy doing | late night drives | talking for hours under a cloudless night sky | reaching things on high shelves | sleeping in til the last possible minute | buying plants but never being able to keep them alive | ice cream and a walk by the river | pretty dungeons and dragons dice sets | listening to the waves and crickets on hot summer nights | mismatched socks and sandals | ancient latin | pointing out constellations and celestial objects | cherry chapstick | diy haircuts and colours | constantly lost in daydreams | smiling at strangers | brown sugar roasted milk tea with pearls

[hannie-dul-set] saying i love you every chance you get | multiple rings on both hands | smiling to yourself because of fond memories | staying up until the morning to study | heeled shoes | long flowy skirts | holding the hand of whoever’s beside you | high-pitched squealing  | piles and piles of unused notebooks | liptint every day | concerts in the shower | hyping yourself up in frontof the mirror | constantly pouting | praying before sleeping | covering your face when you laugh | fixing your glasses every minute | ink and paint marks on your hands | painting the day away | excessively sweet words |

this was a lot of fun wahaha, but it was kind difficult to think f aesthetics that weren’t already written :’> tagging @lamarkeu @joshva @starlightshua @sehunniepot @lcveletter but you don’t want to that’s totally fine :>

[theabominableblogger]

Rewatching “Eragon”

Because I can.  :b

*scats along with the 20th Century Fox theme*

I love this opening POV shot of the Dragon Rider

Whoever thought of casting Jeremy Irons as Brom needs a gold star because I love it.

I SUFFER WITHOUT MY STONE.  DO NOT.  PROLONG MY SUFFERING.

God Robert Carlyle, you were utterly wasted in this movie.

*dramatic whisper as the title pops up*  Eragon...

Wow, those guards’ armor is terrible.  Whoever made the chain mail easy to penetrate with an arrow really needs to be fired.

Again with Bambi’s mom?!?

Peter Buchman (the screenwriter)... bad dog, no biscuit

DRAMATIC FADE TO BLACK

There’s Sloan... where’s his daughter Katrina?

So I found out why that actor sounds familiar... he plays Captain Tarpals in “The Phantom Menace”...

*Eragon and Roran play fight in the barn*  So turns out me and my sister used to reenact this scene when we were younger.  Because we’re nerds.

Man, it’s a shame that there are actually good actors in this movie and they’re kinda brought down due to this script.

Like what happened to Ed Speleers (Eragon) and Christopher Egan (Roran)?  Or Garret Hedlund (Murtagh)?

Oh snap, Murtagh was in Tron Legacy!

[Eragon watches the sunset after Roran leaves] *starts humming the Binary Sunset theme*

“What are you [Saphira]?  You’re not a bird...” Hmm, I dunno, a dragon comes to mind, but... nah, that can’t be it...

How does Arya sense that Saphira’s hatched?

Eragon, that’s not how you feed a baby anything.  You don’t just hold a milk bag over it and go “Now eat it.”

“The dragon has hatched... but to a mere farm boy.”  How do you know that?

Every time Galbatorix talks, I keep hearing “Malkovich Malkovich Malkovich”

*Durza creates the Ra’zac*  Ummm no, that’s not how that works.

*Saphira ages up mid flight*  Ummm no, that’s not how that works.

*Saphira basically names herself*  Nooo....

“The time of the Dragon Riders has come again.”  No, she doesn’t know that...

God, Eragon has become the Iron Fist of this movie:  you don’t just sneak into somebody’s house!

So let’s keep pressuring your dad to tell you, Eragon, that’s the way to go.

OK, for one, the Ra’zac don’t look like that.  Two, beetles?  Really?

“It’s you they want!”  How do you [Saphira] know?

“Stupid boy!”  Basically a summary of the Inheritance cycle.

So basically Eragon is like a much whinier, younger, annoying ANH Luke Skywalker throughout this movie and most of the book series.

And now it’s raining.

I forgot how pretty most of the scenery is in this movie.

I looooovvvee Brom’s black horse

“Why here?” “Because I said here.”  Bring his ass down, Brom.

“Seventeen!”  Wasn’t Eragon 15 in the book?

OK, but here’s the thing:  we’re not even supposed to see Galbatorix until the last book.

Saphira literally shouldn’t be able to know half of the exposition in this movie.  She has about as much information as Eragon at this point.

There’s literally so much tension in a scene where Durza stabs someone’s toe with a blade.  Calm thyselves.

More shots of them riding horses!

“Oh no, the Urgals are slaughtering a village, killing women and children!  Let’s go sword training!”

*sing songs* Priorities...

Whoa, wait, those were the Urgals?  Ugh.  They’re supposed to be these Minotaur looking MOFOs

OK, shut up movie, this is definitely not night time.  Saphira should not be out then.

Brom:  *does something*

Eragon:  WHAT DID YOU DOOOO?!!?!?!?

Oh my gosh, I didn’t realize that there are so many filters used in this movie.  I like the color schemes used but there is no way there is grass that green.

Brom:  Don’t talk to anyone.

Eragon:  OK (goes off and meets up with Angela)

Oh my God, they ruined Angela.  So much. 

Like seriously, where’s Solembum?

Angela in this movie has some seriously bad cataracts or something.

BLUE FIRE!!!!

*Urgals fly into the water*  I FLEW IN FOR NO REASONNNNN!!!

ME TOOOOOO!!!

CANNONBAAAAAALLLLLLL!!!

Eragon:  Holy snot I used MaGicCCC?!?!?!?

Eragon seems to me like Taran from the Prydain Chronicles.  Actually a lot of the plot of this book series seemed kinda recycled from most epic fairy tales and other published stories.

This is kind of a loose explanation of the Ancient Language.

Where has been Brom stashing the dragon saddle this whole time?

HANG ON WITH BOTH HANDS, YOU MORON!

Brom, there is no way Eragon can hear you from down there.

“It’s easy; I can do this.”  Pfffttt.  Nope.

That Insagram filter though!

*Saphira crashes into a tree*  WATCH OUT FOR THAT TREE!  WATCH OUT FOR THAT.... TREEEEEEE!!!

BUM BUM BUM BUM BA BUM!

Is Brom putting mustard on Saphira’s wing?

“Better to ask forgiveness than permission.”  Oh shut up, Eragon.

“Dragon Rider...”  How did you [Eragon] know?

OK, probably one of the best things in this movie is Zar’roc, the freaking sword, because its design is pretty sweet.

That was kind of an abrupt scene transition.

Durza’s outfit looks like it’s covered in sequins.

He stabbed the Urgal... in the temple... with his fingernail...

Oh now that was a cool transition!

“Gilead’s the opposite direction!”  Well if they were actually going to Dras-Leona like they do in the books, that would be correct.  And they were also hunting down the Ra’zac instead of just camping out for funsies.

Era-gun?

“I’m the rider and I say we go.”  Bitch!

Who are these hooded assholes?

The main architect at Gilead, when building this, probably went “Hmm, y’know, m’Lord, this place seems too kind of evil for nice soft candles.  Let’s go with flaming grills and torches everywhere!” and Galbatorix replied with “Malkovich!  Brilliant!  And make everything look rectangular!”  And here we are.

Now how does Eragon keep continuing to use the Ancient Language even though we know that he knows that it wears him out every time he uses it?

Robert Carlyle was utterly WASTED!  Like this upsets me.

WHY DO YOU KEEP USING BRISINGR!

DURZA... BOY... YOU DON’T USE BRISINGR TO LEVITATE A SWORD!

They use Orc noises for Saphira

They tell you in the movie that Saphira doesn’t like Zar’roc because it’s “a dragon killer” but when Eragon pulls out the sword, Saphira immediately comes to it.

BOY[Eragon]!  STOP SMILING!  YOUR DAD IS DYING!

Now when did Eragon take the time to learn some more of the Ancient Language?

OK, so Brom can understand Eragon and Saphira when they talk to each other, so yeah, his last scene in this movie is sad.

*Saphira sits up to mourn Brom*  That’s awesome.

[Arya shows Eragon how to reach the Varden]  *sings* DON’T GO CHASING WATERFALLS/ PLEASE STICK TO THE RIVERS AND THE LAKES THAT YOU’RE USED TO

How does Murtagh know where the Varden are?

More shots of horseback riding!

That Urgal just leapt out of nowhere for no reason at all.

Oh my God, Malkovich...

He is annoyingly American in this movie.  Like why would you be afraid of this dude?

Man, Djimon Hounsou needs to get a lead role someday.  Like he’s too good for most of the movies he’s in.

The guy who plays Hrothgar looks really familiar for some reason...

Man, even before OUAT started, Robert Carlyle still had to deal with his character’s bad teeth problem.

Y’know, for Du Weldenvarden, this is pretty small.

This movie is pretty much kind of a rip off of “A New Hope:”  boy wants to do more, lives with his uncle, said uncle dies and gets burnt, boy travels along with father figure (in this case Brom’s actually his father so spoiler), father figure dies via bad guy who also has mystical powers, boy has the same job as father figure, boy defeats evil via super specific small weak point while in/on a flying object, boy has to go rescue princess

Are they planning out the battle on the sidewalk with charcoal?

You expect this naive seventeen year old who barely knows anything to lead the Varden into battle?  Haaa......

*Urgals burst through the Wall*  WHO’S GOT THE BARBECUE???

Y’know, for a climatic final battle, this is puny

INTO THE SKY!  TO WIN OR DIE!

“Yeah!”  We burnt down half the Varden!  Heck yeah!

Arya, as of this point in the movie, has probably had zero character development

Oh no, more marching Neanderthals...

Abba blacka what?

So literally for this final battle, Durza summons a dark smoke Pokemon.

“This wound weakens me.”  No crap, Saphira.

“I know what I have to do.”  Fire the proton torpedoes?

And Eragon dies from the fall.  End of movie.  Cue end credits music.

OK, I can’t deny the fact that Eragon’s battle armor looks sweet.

WEISS!!!  HEILL!!!

Why does Murtagh remind me of a Discount Kylo Ren?

All of the Varden are cheering because Eragon and Saphira wrecked their town last night.  Like “Eh, better cheer for this asshole as he freaking leaves us!  Thank God!”

@dynamicdiplomacy, what was that one Snapchat conversation we had about Luke coming back to the base after destroying the first Death Star?

“When will I see you [Arya] again?”  Never.

What’s with the Native American theme for Arya in this movie?

Shruiken!

KEEEEEEPPPP HOOOOLDINGGG OOOONNNNN!!!!

Why do the credits have a picture of a gryphon for the background?

[bookhoardingdragon]

That’s the Fey’s Problem - Ch 6

Rulo

Corn tipped her head to the side and scrunched her face at Boaz. “How many Corns do you know?”

Boaz lifted one eyebrow.

“I mean people named Corn. Not like actual corn. Cause that would be weird. Unless it was talking corn. Then it would be weird and cool and I would want you to introduce me.” It occurred to her that she was rambling. She waved her hand in a frantic air clearing gesture. “But that’s not the point! Answer the question!”

Boaz shook his head and propped his hands on his hips. Shoulders? Shoulder-hips? She should probably ask him about this stuff at some point.

“I heard that Rin and Hecate had a new roommate that needed looking after, but when I heard her name was Corn I assumed that something got lost in translation.” He made a sheepish face and shrugged.

Corn laughed. “Yeah I can see why you would think that.”

“Did you just dis your own name?” Felda sounded both incredulous and impressed.

Corn shrugged. “I like beating other people to the punch.”

Behind her Sil barked a laugh.

Rin pushes herself in between Felda and Corn. “Well this has been real and all, but we need to get our tiny disaster person home before the Fey that’s been eying us makes a move.”

“The what now?” Corn glanced around but wasn’t sure what Rin was talking about.

“Yeah of course.” Boaz shuffled his feet, and rubbed the back of his neck. “I guess I’ll see you around Corn?”

“Yeah of course!” She smiled eagerly up at him and he relaxed, grinning back.

“Alright let’s go!” Rin looped her arm through Corn’s and dragged her away. “You did great tonight Boaz!”

Corn woke up excited for the day. It was Friday and she had a new friend! She grabbed her phone off the side table, eager to text him and then remembered that she didn’t have his number. Well it was probably too early to text him anyway. She didn’t want him to think she was crazy.

It was probably too late for that.

Corn bolted upright in her bed startling Sil who was fixing her hair.

“Fricking pin feathers Corn!”

“Sorry Sil. I’m just excited.”

“You’re always excited.”

“True.”

“So what are you excited about today?”

“I’m going to skip class!”

“That’s a terrible idea.”

“That’s why I’m excited!”

Sil laughed at her. “Of course it is. So what are you going to do instead of go to class?”

Corn squirmed into a better position, crossing her legs and pulling her blankets into her lap to create a little nest. “First I’m going to the dining hall to eat a magnificent breakfast. And then I’m going out to the art center to hang out until I run into Boaz.”

“Wow so you guys really hit it off yesterday huh?”

“Yeah I think so.”

Sil smiled. “That’s great! Can I join you for breakfast?”

“Absolutely!” Corn flung her blankets off and bounded out of bed. “Breakfast friends!”

In the dining hall Corn prepared a feast for herself, taking full advantage of not having a time constraint. She had toast, eggs, bacon, sausage, pancakes, waffles, oatmeal and fruit. It was glorious.

Sil watched her gather this feast with growing alarm. When Corn finally stopped and settled in to eat Sil just stared.

“How do you manage to eat so much food? Not even because you’re so small, I don’t know any guys that can eat as much as you either. And we—” Sil gestured to herself—“have to eat a lot to keep up with the high metabolism and the wings. But you eat more than anyone I have ever seen!”

“It’s better if you don’t think about it.” Corn shoveled more food in her mouth. “Food was made to be appreciated and I intend to do my part appreciating it. Also I’m pretty sure there is no actual explanation for it.”

Sil shook her head and went back to her own food.

“Sil can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

Corn picked up a piece of bacon and nibbled on the end. “Where are you from?”

“I’m from Kiamar. In the Sky Teeth.”

“That’s super ominous sounding.”

Sil shrugged. “I’m pretty sure the Fae named them.”

Corn nodded sagely. “They’re very edgy.”

Sil snorted. “Please say that Felda some time.”

“Done.” Corn gave Sil a thumbs up and continued to eating. “So what was Kiamar like?”

Sil leaned forward, propping an elbow on the table and resting her chin in her hand. “Its very open there. Big windows, open terraces and rooftops set up to hang out on. And bridges. It’s beautiful and windy and open.” Sil sighed in a happy but longing sort of way.

“You miss it don’t you?”

Sil smiled wryly. “I do. It’s home. But I love it here too. This place is beautiful in a different kind of way. And maybe it’s not as easy to jump out a window and go for a flight but I’ve had a lot of different experiences here that I wouldn’t have had back home. And this is just school, it doesn’t last forever.”

“Yeah.” Corn slumped forward against the table suddenly feeling sad.

“Oh heyyy. That’s not a bad thing. After school you can do anything.”

“Yeah I guess.” Corn picked up a spoon and dragged it across the table.

“You’re parents expect you to go back home?”

“Yeah.” Corn heaved a sigh. “I love my family. And it’s not that I don’t want to be with them. I just don’t want to be there anymore. I want to see the world. Have adventures.”

Sil leaned back in her chair. “I get that. Family is hard.” She shrugged. “But this is your life. You can’t live it for someone else. No matter how much it hurts to disappoint them.”

Corn looked up at her friend. She felt… uncertain, maybe a little afraid, but hopeful too. “Yeah. Thanks Sil.”

“Of course. And you still have a couple years before you have to decide anything so don’t even think about it yet.”

Corn smiled. “I won’t.” She went back to eating.

Sil laughed and finished her own breakfast. “Well I am going to class today so I better go. See you later Corn.”

“See you later!” Corn waved but didn’t look up from her food.

When Corn finished she left the dining hall and headed for the Arts Center. Normally she would have gotten distracted by the beautiful campus on the way there but today she was on a mission.

Once she got to the Art Center she realized she had no idea where to look for Boaz, or when he would be here, but she figured if she hung around long enough he would turn up eventually. So she started to explore.

There was a lot of people around this morning, heading to class or collecting in groups to play music or work on projects. Corn followed the flow of people for a while, pretending she was one of them, and letting them lead her around the center. Eventually she took a seat on a stone bench on the far side of the Art Center. She was at the very edge of campus in a grassy spot behind a building. The forest drew close here and Corn wished she’d brought an instrument with her, she had a feeling the acoustics would be great with the trees for a backdrop.

But she didn’t have an instrument so she turned her attention instead to the monument that stood between her and the forest. Standing in top of a low pedestal was the statue of an Elf. She was dressed in an almost scandalous manner—her dress low cut and a slit up one side reaching almost to her hip. Corn wondered if that was why they’d hid her away back here.

The woman had a kind but mischievous smile on her face and one hand slightly extended like she was mid conversation. Corn wanted to be friends with her, she looked like she would be a lot of fun.

“That’s Queen Astra. The founder of the school.”

Corn whipped around, nearly tumbling off the bench. A boy leaned against the bench, smiling at her. He was easily the most beautiful boy she had ever seen. His features were perfect, fine to the point of being almost delicate. It was unnatural looking. Like he wasn’t actually real.

“I’m sorry—” he smiled slowly—“I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Corn felt an odd wave of dislike for this boy. “It’s fine. You only startled me.” Turning her back on him she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Good.” He slid a little closer. “So you like the statue?”

“I do, she’s—” Corn turned her head to look at him and found his face meer inches from her own. His eyes were a startling gold color and his pupils were slits instead of round holes.

“She’s incredible. Did you know she created this school to be a place that would welcome everyone no matter their species or race?”

There was something mesmerizing about him, Corn wasn’t sure what she hadn’t liked about him before. “Yes.” She nodded emphatically. “I did know that.”

“Very good.” He reached out and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear before straightening up and hopping over the bench in one lithe motion, seating himself beside her. “But do you know why Astra cared so much about including everyone?”

Corn shook her head.

“Then I’ll tell you.”

Corn leaned in, eager to hear the answer.

“She was a Dark Elf, shunned and mistreated by her own people.”

“Oh yeah.” Corn turned away from him. “She was from Arith but she came to Olisaria because she heard that it was a better place than Arith, more welcoming. And it was, but it wasn’t everything that it could have been yet, so she became Queen and made it better!” Corn popped up to approach the statue. “I loved learning about her in school, even though we didn’t learn much. But I couldn’t get enough, so I read every book that had information about her that I could get my hands on.” Corn propped her hands on her hips and grinned up at the statue.

“Well you are a clever thing aren’t you.”

“Yes I am.” Corn spun around to grin at the boy who was now standing behind her. “And you are far too pretty. You would look better if you had a scar or a broken nose or something.”

“I would?” The boy looked taken aback by this.

“Yes. You don’t actually look real. A scar or something would fix that, make you look more dashing and less like a figment of imagination.”

“I see.” He looked amused now.

“What’s your name?” She couldn’t keep calling him ‘the boy’ in her head, that was preposterous.

“Call me Rulo.” He took her hand in his own and bowed over in a stately manner. “May I have your name?”

“Oh I’m Corn.”

“Corn.” Her said her name carefully like he was testing it, his head tilted to one side. “You seem like an adventurous girl, would you care to join me on a walk in the forest?” He gestured to the trees behind her. “There’s something I would love to show you.”

Corn looked into his smiling face and could think of no reason not to. So she shrugged. “Sure. I’ve got time to kill.”

Rulo grinned at her tugged on her hand, pulling her towards the forest. Corn was following him willingly when someone called her name.

“Corn?”

“Boaz?” Corn spun around pulling her hand free of Rulo’s.

Boaz cantered into view a concerned look on his face, but the minute he saw Corn his expression changed to one of delight and relief.

Corn was so excited to see him and encouraged by the range of emotions on his face that she raced toward him, sprang up onto the bench and threw herself into his arms.

The look of surprise on his face right before he caught her made her second guess this decision but by then it was too late so she simply latched her arms around his neck and welcomed the feel of his own arms around her torso.

At the sound of a throat clearing Boaz eased her off his neck but didn’t put her down, instead he looped one arm around her back and the other under her knees.

Rulo stood with his hands in his pockets scowling at them. “That was very touching, but Corn and I were about to take a walk.” He lifted one eyebrow in a come hither sort of look.

Corn had thought even before Rulo’s appearance that the forest was beautiful and she did want to explore it, but now that she’d found Boaz she didn’t want to leave.

Rulo sighed in annoyance. “Come along Corn.”

Corn shook her head. “Maybe some other time. I want to hang out with Boaz.”

Rulo looked surprised and then annoyed but simply shrugged before turning and vanishing into the forest.

Boaz released a long breath as soon as he was gone and lowered Corn to the ground. “That was close.”

“Close?” Corn looked up at him confused.

Boaz shook his head. “Rulo is one of the Fey Corn. He was trying to kidnap you.”

“What?!” Corn looked back at where he’d disappeared as if there might be some evidence to prove this. “Is that why he was so unreasonably pretty?”

Boaz barked a laugh and rubbed his hands over his face.

“Sorry about my greeting there. I just got excited cause I was expecting it to take me a lot longer to find you.” Corn looked away feeling embarrassed. She’d known him less than a day for stars sake. Throwing yourself into a boy’s arms was really something that should wait until you knew him a bit better.

Boaz laughed again. “I admit I was surprised by your enthusiasm but in this case I think it worked out well.” He smiled kindly and Corn felt relieved that he wasn’t going to hold it against her.

“But Corn, what are you doing here?”

“Looking for you.”

“Why? I mean, not that I didn’t want to see you again but don’t you have class?”

“I do. But I realized this morning that I forgot to get your number last night so I decided to skip class.”

Boaz smiled in an amused but perplexed kind of way. “You could have got my number after class.”

“I was worried I wouldn’t be able to find you if you weren’t in class and I didn’t want to have to wait till the weekend was over.”

Boaz grinned. “Well I’m glad you decided not to wait, but do you mind coming to my first class? I’ll skip the rest but this one is kinda important.”

“Not at all! Lead the way!”

Read Chapter 5

Read Chapter 7

[salty-dracon]

TMX- Chapter One (rewrite)

The school bus wheeled forward on scratched rubber tires, rumbling over the dirt. 

Do you ever wonder why we live?

Brooke stared at her yellow reflection in the metal before boarding. Her blue backpack bounced behind her, stuffed to the brim with binders and papers.

Do we just make up meaning for our lives? What defines living? Enjoying ourselves? Procreation? Or is it truly pointless?

A cool breeze blowed a few tendrils of her red hair in front of her brown eyes. She brushed the hair out of her dark brown eyes as she went to pick a seat. 

What does my life mean to me?

The last thing she heard was the sound of a truck honking.

The last thing she did was turn around. 

The last thing she saw was a truck, twice the size of the school bus, barreling towards her, with no time to stop. 

...

...

...

Brooke’s eyes opened. 

The light blinded her back into closing her eyes. It was then that she realized she was curled up in the fetal position, her body full of feeling. Carefully she pried her arms away from her body, checking her joints to make sure they could still move. When her arms were sufficiently mobile, she wiped the goop off her eyes and opened them again. 

The thing in front of her was spotlessly white. As Brooke examined it closer, she realized it was a flat piece of plastic with a latch on top. She undid the latch with shaking fingers, and jumped back when the plastic fell in front of her, revealing a shiny black screen.

A... tray table? With a screen behind it?

Brooke uncurled her legs. She realized she was sitting on a similarly white leather seat. As she glanced around, she saw a window to her left. The view was of a golden sky, with little white clouds here and there. There were no trees, houses, fences, or even ground to be seen. As her ears adjusted, she heard the gentle clicking of train tracks under her feet. 

Am I on a train?

As Brooke looked to her right for answers, she was startled by the tall form of a... Julien wasn’t sure whether they were a boy or a girl. Perhaps neither. Their face was pressed against the seat in front of them, and they were snoring lightly. Across from both of them, there was a slightly shorter boy curled up in a brown trench coat. 

Julien tried to glance at the other passengers. There were people of many races and skin colors in the car. Brooke reflected on the fact that she must have been one of the lightest. 

“Woah!“ 

Brooke jumped back when she heard the voice. 

The person next to her opened their eyes. They pulled back their blue-dyed bangs and yawned. “Hey, what the fuck?”

“I don’t know!“ Brooke shouted. 

The boy in the trench coat gave a small mumble of restlessness. 

All around them, people were starting to wake up. Brooke was sure she heard someone call someone else’s name from the front. They began to talk to each other, Brooke realized with surprise, in perfect English. 

“Nikolas, you’re okay!“

“Yes, yes, I’m fine.“

“But we both died in that explosion!“

Brooke sat down. 

“Julien.“ The person introduced themselves. “I’m a they. Got it?“

“Okay... “ Brooke held her hand out. “Brooke. I’m a she.“

“Nice to meet you.“ Julien waited for a few seconds before asking “Fuck, you’re kinda cute.”

Brooke did not know how to answer.

The boy in the trench coat shot awake. “Woah! Woah woah woah! Where are we?!” He glanced around the train car. “Are we in a train?”

“Hell if I know.“ Julien held their hand out. “Julien. How ‘bout you?“

“Arthur.“ Arthur shook their hand.

Arthur’s outburst seemed to awaken more people. Within twenty minutes the entire train car was talking to each other and introducing themselves. 

“Brooke. I’m from Long Island.“

“Where?“ Julien asked. 

“Long Island. New York?“

Julien looked confused. 

“America?“

“But you’re speaking French.“

“I’m speaking English, and so are you!“

“I’m pretty sure I’m speaking French, Brooke.“

“Nope, she’s speaking English,“ Arthur said. “At least, that’s how I hear it.“

“Well, I’m from France, so if that changes anything-“

“I’m from England.“

A bell rang in the car, interrupting everyone’s conversation. A woman in a white robe appeared at the front, smiling brightly. “Hello, everyone! Welcome to the Heaven’s Express! I will be your conductor today, and I hope everyone is enjoying the trip to heaven.”

“Heaven?!“ Arthur exclaimed. “Are we dead?!“

“In short, yes, you’re dead.“ The woman kept smiling, as if it were perfectly normal. “Every single one of you is dead.“

Gasps arose from the car. 

“But please don’t worry, everyone! You’re going to heaven, which means you’ll be here in a land of total paradise, yay!“

“Go fuck yourself!“ Julien shouted. “Bitch!“

“Language, dude.“ Brooke punched their shoulder.

“Please, may all of you enjoy the conveniences of Heaven’s Express! If you just undo the tray tables in front of you, you’ll see a system that’ll help you wash away the last traces of guilt you feel. You’ll know that everyone is okay! The system also allows you to order any food you’d like, so... “

As the lady rambled on, Brooke touched her screen. A list lit up, displaying a number of different words: “English, Francais, Espanol...” Brooke selected English. Another prompt appeared. “Please enter your full name.“ Brooke typed in the letters carefully- “Brooke Alice Malone“. One click of the “enter” button later, and she was greeted with a picture of herself boarding a school bus, with the words “IS THIS YOU?” underneath. Brooke selected “Yes.”

The screen changed. Another list displayed itself, except instead of being different languages, it was names. Martin Malone, Alicia Malone, Kelley Malone, Ariana Smith, Katrina Maston... 

All the names of people she new. 

Brooke selected her mother’s name, Alice Malone. The screen turned black for a moment before playing a video with audio. 

An office cubicle. A hand with veins popping out reached for a picture in a frame. A picture of Brooke on her sixth birthday, with a little sparkly party hat, hugging her father. Next to it was another picture of Brooke- her senior picture, where she wore her mother’s favorite pink dress. Two drops of water fell onto the picture, shielded by glass. 

A view through Mom’s eyes? 

“Is this... “

“Every one of the names in this list thinks about you.“ Brooke turned around to find the woman in the white robe leaning over the back of her chair. “This is a view through their eyes, so you can see how they cope. Though they grieve, as you will find out later, it won’t matter to you.“

Brooke sent an angry frown in the direction of the woman before staring at Julien’s screen. They were crying at something. 

“Shit, man... “ they muttered. “I wasn’t that fucking nice... “

Arthur watched his feed with seemingly no reaction. But all around the car, people were watching their feeds and crying.

“Excuse me?“ someone called out from the front. “How long do we have to watch them?“

“Oh, dear, I’m sorry I mentioned them at all.” The conductor’s voice sounded sad and concerned. “You all look so unhappy! Heaven is paradise, you shouldn’t be sad like this! Come come, turn them off. Here, I’ll turn them off myself. Let me just-“

The statement was met by angry protesting from the people. 

“Okay, fine, fine! I’m just saying, you don’t have to worry about earth anymore! Release your sadness! Forget about your parents and friends! None of them will matter in a few hours!“

There were more angry shouts.

The conductor sighed and walked away. As she turned around Brooke caught the sight of wings on her back. 

“An angel in heaven.“ Arthur smiled. “I wonder what kind. She’s probably mid-tier, since the lower levels of angels look like spinning rings.“

“What?“ Brooke asked.

“I read lots of mythology. Greek, Norse, Christian, Chinese, Indian... ooh, Nigerian too! And Philippine!“

“So how did you die?“

“...I think I choked on some food.“ Arthur said.

“I was hit by a truck.“

“Beat over the head with a nail bat. Ouch.“ Julien pointed to the back of their head. “What’s the backpack for, Brooke?“

“Oh, this?“ Brooke pulled it out. “It’s my backpack. It’s got everything in here. Like pens, pencils, a compass somewhere... “

“Wait, does that mean-“ Arthur rummaged through his pockets and pulled out a Swiss army knife. He beamed with joy when he rubbed his finger along a series of monogrammed letters. “Yes! It’s still here!“

“Oh, that looks dangerous... “ The woman in the white robe suddenly appeared behind Arthur in a puff of white smoke. “You shouldn’t take that into heaven.“

“Why not?“ Arthur pointed to some blue plating on the side. “See? It’s got my name on it! It was my birthday present this year!“

“Still, it’s dangerous, and we don’t want anyone to get hurt... “ The angel’s eyes shifted to Brooke’s backpack. “Oh, and all that stuff! You shouldn’t-“

“Hey, shut the fuck up.“ Julien snapped at her. “Brookey can take whatever she wants, got that?!”

“I’m just saying, even if you don’t use them, someone else might-“

The crowd began to protest again, especially the battle-scarred ones. To their outburst, the angel sighed and walked away again. 

“We are really ruining that lady’s day,“ Arthur muttered.

“Fuck that lady.“ Julien leaned back against Brooke’s chest. “No one touches your shit, Brooke. Not on my watch.“

“Are you... hitting on me?“ Brooke blushed. “You’re awfully bad at it, just so you know.“

“Am I?“ Julien laughed. “Wow. So, like, can I get your number in heaven or something? Did I do it right that time?“

Brooke chuckled. 

The next twenty hours of the ride went on as such, with Brooke, Arthur, and Julien conversing amongst themselves and with others around them. All the time, the light outside the train car grew brighter and brighter, until, at last, they arrived. 

...

The first vision of heaven they received was a giant train station, with marble as white as snow and so clean that you could see your reflection. The pillars were made of marble as smooth as a seashell, and towered up to the sky, so high that no one could see the top. People dressed in different garments, with strangely colored hair and wings, talked to each other. Brooke’s heart pounded as she saw them. Their faces were all beautiful, serene, and perfect. It was almost scary.

“Are they looking to board?“ Arthur asked.

“Attention, everyone!“ The conductor appeared again, at the front of the car. “Before you exit the car, I want to stress a few important points! First of all, if someone grabs you, let them. They’re your guardian angel, and although you might not recognize them, they know you better than even you might. Second, once you meet them, you’ll want to make eye contact with them. It’ll help later on. And third, please stay on good terms with them! They’ll be your servants, best friends, and husbands and wives for the rest of eternity. And fourth, you may leave all of your belongings here on the train. You don’t need them, and we can put them to good use. Thank you all for riding Heaven’s Express, yay!“

The doors at the side of the cars opened. Immediately, people began to pile out. Most of them took their guns, backpacks and other objects with them, much to the conductor’s chagrin.  

“Got everything?“ Julien asked. “Let’s just wait for Arthur, and then let’s head out, okay?“

Brooke zipped her backpack and glanced at Arthur. 

Arthur appeared to be frozen with fear. His hand was slipped inside one of his pockets. 

“Hey,“ Brooke said. “Is something wrong?“

“My Swiss Army Knife. I can’t find it.“ Arthur’s voice was shaking.

The conductor sighed. “Your guardian angel can just-”

“No, you don’t understand.“ Arthur turned to the conductor. “My dad gave it to me for my birthday. It was the last thing he gave me before he-“

“Like I said, your guardian angel can just give you a new one.“

“But it won’t be the same!“ Arthur exclaimed. “Because-“

“Arthur, we’ll help you.“ Julien sighed and stretched their arms. “C’mon.“ They kneeled on the ground and looked around as more people shuffled off. “Brooke, help me, will ya?”

Brooke nodded and hopped over the next seat. She kneeled on the ground and peered between the moving legs and train car seats. “I can’t see it.”

“You’re wasting time,“ the conductor urged. “Your guardians are going to get worried.“

“I don’t give a shit.“ Julien watched as the last person left the train car. “Shit, it’s not here.“

Arthur’s hand reached inside his other pocket. He gasped and pulled out his Swiss Army Knife. “Oh.”

“It was in your pocket? Fair enough.“ The conductor sighed. “And since your backpack’s-“

Brooke picked her backpack up with an angry frown.

“Geez, fine, fine.“

Together, they exited the train. A few seconds after Brooke’s feet landed on the ground, the train puffed quietly away. 

“She said our guardians were waiting for us,“ Arthur whispered. 

“Over here!“ “Julien!” “Welcome!”

“Angels… ” Julien muttered, as they saw the source of the voices.”

One of them was a short woman with blonde hair and purple wings in a white Greek-style dress. The second was a taller woman with darker skin and chocolate brown hair in a lacey black gown. The third was a man with golden-orange hair in a white suit with golden and red accents, with orange wings unfolding behind him.

“Arthur! Come on!” The blonde bolted forward and embraced Arthur, who looked shocked at the prospect of being hugged so suddenly. She kissed his forehead and danced him around. “Ohhh, I missed you so much!“

“Julien.“ The brunette tenderly wrapped her arms around Julien, smothering them in many layers of dress. “Welcome back home, my dear. How long has it been?“

“Brooke.“ The golden-haired angel kneeled in front of Brooke and took her hand. “I’ve missed you for longer than you could comprehend. Welcome to heaven, my dear. My name is Grey. I hope we’ll be good friends.“

“Grey... “ Brooke whispered. “It’s... nice to meet you too.“

“We met once before, you know. But we were destined to separate. Thank the lord you’ve made it to heaven.“ He embraced her and kissed her cheek.

“Okay, okay... “ Brooke pushed him away. “That’s enough.“

“Your eyes are beautiful, you know.“ He pulled his chin towards her. “Can I take a look?“

“What?“

“Look at my eyes, darling… ” He leaned closer. “I’ve always dreamed of gazing into those eyes.”

Brooke’s heart pounded when she heard his words- not out of love or excitement, but out of pure fear. Somewhere the back of her mind, she recalled the conductor’s words. 

“No!“ She pushed him away. 

Gray seemed shocked. Even the other two angels stopped doting on Julien and Arthur and stared at Brooke.

“No?” Gray asked.

“Sorry. It’s been a long ride.” Brooke pinched the area between her eyes, as if she had a headache.

“That’s absolutely fine. I apologize for troubling you.“ Grey smiled. “Come now, we should leave. Night will be falling soon.“ He led her towards a large door at the end of the hall.

“Wait.“ Brooke pulled him back. “I want their phone numbers.“

“Whose?“ 

“Arthur and Jule’s.“

“You don’t need them.“

“Yes I do! I want to chat with them and stuff!“

“... I understand. There is no such thing as a cell phone in heaven, but as long as I know the names of their guardians, I should have no problem contacting them. And I believe their names are Amelia Victoria Fisher and Lucia Constantinou.“

The two winged women nodded in response.

“Goodbye for now, then?“ Julien smiled. “Can I get a hug?“

“Of course.“ Brooke ran up to Julien and embraced them. They were joined by Arthur, who almost knocked all three of them over. 

“Soon, right?“ Brooke whispered.

“Yeah. Soon.“ Julien squeezed them both tighter. “Hey, don’t let go of your shit, okay?“

“I certainly won’t.“ Arthur whispered. “And when we meet again, we’ll have fun, right?“

“Of course.“ Brooke said.

After a tight squeeze, they released each other. Brooke and Grey exited out of the train station into the world outside. 

As Brooke walked off, she couldn’t help but feel that despite their location in heaven, there was something dangerously wrong with the world they now lived in. She glanced up at Gray, who smiled back down. Something was wrong with him, too. Perhaps it was just her heart, trying to right itself from the shock that she was dead.

...

“That’s it?!“

Brooke stared out at the expanse before her. They were standing on a narrow paved road, surrounded on both sides by completely still water. In the distance stood a city. Beyond the city, the sun set, creating a palette of orange and red in the sky.

“Heaven is made of many planes. This is only one of those many.“ Grey pointed further down the narrow road. “This is known as the commonplane of Elysium, one of the six domains of heaven. Down the road, many humans are enjoying time in the marketplace with their guardians.“

“And that?“ Brooke pointed to the city in the distance. 

“That was simply built for show. Many humans complained of the lack of scenery. The city is inhabitable, but unused.“

“Okay... “ Brooke sighed. “So then what?“

Grey sighed and turned around. Once again, he kneeled in front of Brooke. 

“I can hear it in your voice. You’re nervous and impatient for rest. As your guardian angel, he who has possessed nothing but love for you since the day you were born, I promise you that everything will be okay as long as you stay with me. I realize you know very little about me. You only know my name and appearance. I know you barely trust me. But I’ll provide for all of your needs, and I’ll care for you. Please, my dear, no matter what transpires, do not fear me.“

Brooke sighed. “So now what?”

“Taxi?“

Brooke heard a screech of wheels. She glanced to her side to find a taxi where one hadn’t been moments before. Grey opened the door and motioned her in. Brooke climbed into the taxi, followed by Grey. Brooke was nervous to see that the windows of the taxi were entirely blacked out.

The driver’s seat was blocked out by a curtain. “Name?” a voice said.

“Grey de Aur.“ Grey said.

“You have arrived at your destination.“ 

Grey opened the taxi door. When Brooke stepped out, she could not believe what greeted her eyes.